


Time to take a chance

by Martuki7



Series: Time [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Books hurt Harry, Characters Reading Harry Potter Books, Family, Feeling what happens in the books, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Reading the Books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-09 06:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 45,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martuki7/pseuds/Martuki7
Summary: Halloween always seems to bring surprises with it. Instead of the names of the champions for the Triwizard Tournament they were expecting, the three schools and a few guests receive seven books about a certain boy. Will they realize how dangerous they are? Will they take the chance to fix mistakes before they are made? Will they learn to trust and ask for help when they need it?





	1. Surprise!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Well, I’m from Spain and this is the first time I publish a story in English so I’m sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistake, but I really wanted to try to do this.  
> This isn’t the first story I’ve begun about reading the books of Harry Potter, but the other one is written in Spanish. It’s called ‘Leyendo la vida del chico de la cicatriz del rayo’ and I’ve been working on it for a long time now. The problem is that I started it without knowing where I wanted to go with it and I’ve wanted to change so many things for a while. So, I decided to rewrite it and I thought, ‘Hey, why don’t I try to write it in both English and Spanish? It can’t hurt to try’, so, yeah, here you go.  
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer: All the text in bold and the characters belong to J. K. Rowling. This is just a story written by a fan who doesn’t get any kind of compensation for it except for a few reviews from time to time.

**Time to take a chance**

 

** Surprise! **

 

Time is a very curious thing.

 

Time sometimes feels like it flows too fast while other times it feels like it takes forever for another grain of sand to fall in an hourglass. Time changes your perception of things. The time when an event takes place can change a lot of things and have a lot of consequences.

 

Perhaps that was the next events in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would take place that night instead of years earlier or much later, once everything had come to pass. Had they happened later, it would have been for nothing, but it would have done more harm than good if they had happened earlier.

 

Of course, none of the wizards and witches currently in the Great Hall knew that nor that something unexpected was going to happen. How could they? They only knew that that year was going to be special with the Triwizard Tournament and its three champions were going to be chosen any moment now. The students were all waiting impatiently for Dumbledore to finish his dinner, many of them sending glances at the blue-white flames of the Goblet of Fire.

 

What they weren’t expecting was for the Great Hall to suddenly be filled with a flash of light that blinded everyone. When the bright spots disappeared from everyone’s eyes, they couldn’t see anything out of order. Everybody was on their feet with their wands ready to defend themselves, but nothing more than that.

 

Well, there was one thing…

 

“What the…?” A voice carried through the Great Hall, making many heads turn in that direction. It belonged to a boy with unruly black hair and round glasses that they all knew. “A package? I receive a package now?”

 

“Mr. Potter?” The headmaster prompted, his blue eyes sharp and the twinkle that was usually in them completely gone.

 

“This has appeared, Professor,” Harry said, poking the cardboard box with his wand warily.

 

“It has your name on it,” Hermione said, eyeing the top where ‘Harry James Potter’ was written with a somewhat familiar chicken scribble. She knew it from somewhere but she couldn’t quite put her finger on where.

 

Dumbledore quickly walked over to the Gryffindor table, the students parting to allow him to get close to the box. He was followed closely behind by McGonagall, Snape, Moody, Crouch, Bagman, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime while the other professors tried to maintain a minimum of order as whispers spread across the student body.

 

“Mr. Potter, everyone, step back,” McGonagall ordered immediately. Her students quickly hurried to obey, knowing better than to ignore her orders when she sounded like that.

 

The old headmaster waved his wand over the box in complicated motions, whispering under his breath and frowning in confusion when nothing happened.

 

“I don’t think it has any harmful hex or charm on it,” he said after a while. He had checked in every way he knew how to do it and all the results had come back negative. He reached out with a hand, keeping his wand ready just in case, and tried to open the box. To his bafflement, it remained firmly shut.

 

“Somezing wrong, Dumbly-dorr?” Madame Maxime asked sharply as she eyed the box mistrustfully. She had taken care to position herself between the box and the students from her school, which were two tables away.

 

“Not really,” the headmaster said pensively. “I can’t open the box.”

 

“I think that counts as something wrong, Dumbledore,” Karkaroff snarked impatiently.

 

“Maybe not, if I’m not the one who’s meant to open it,” Dumbledore said, turning his gaze towards Harry. The boy was standing a couple of feet away, next to his friends and the other Gryffindors who had been ushered away by their head of house.

 

Harry blinked startled when he found himself the focus of a pair of twinkling blue eyes. “Me?” He blurted out shocked, pointing at himself. He looked behind him, half hoping that the old man was looking at someone else.

 

“You want a school boy to open a box with unknown contents that had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of your school, Albus?” Crouch asked, not looking too happy with the prospect.

 

“It has his name on it, Barty. It was clearly meant for him,” Dumbledore nodded. “It stands to reason that whoever went to such lengths to send him this package, managing to bypass the wards around the castle, would make sure that he would be the only one able to reveal its contents.”

 

“Bloody fantastic,” the boy cursed under his breath. This was the last thing he needed. He had just wanted to see who the champions were and celebrate with his friends, trying to guess what they would have to face.

 

“C’mon, mate,” Ron said, clapping his shoulder in support. “Better get it over with.”

 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Harry huffed, tightening his grip on his wand as he walked closer.

 

He closed the distance to the box and opened it without problem. There wasn’t any kind of mystical glow or anything. He didn’t know what had stopped Dumbledore from opening it, but he felt nothing. He looked inside apprehensively, half expecting to see something horrible and half expecting to see a treasure. The last thing he thought he would see was…

 

“Books?” He exclaimed. “They’ve sent me books?”

 

“What kind of books?” Hermione asked curiously as she peeked over his shoulder.

 

“I’m not sure. It says…” Harry grabbed the one that was on top, a red one, and looked at the cover, trailing off as he read the title. “ **Harry Potter and** …”

 

“And?” Moody snapped when he didn’t continue.

 

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned, turning the book around to show it to them. “It’s all blurry. I can’t read it.” It reminded him of how he saw when he didn’t have his glasses.

 

“All the books are like that,” Ron said, pulling them out of the box and inspecting a dark blue one. They were all in different widths and colours, but the title was the same one.

 

“And they’re all blank,” Dumbledore observed, having opened a purple one. Snape was examining a green one and McGonagall was frowning at the one in her hands, a black one with the title in white.

 

If he was honest with himself, Harry was glad about that. With that title, it was likely that those books were about him and that creeped the hell out of him. He didn’t want any books —any more books, at least— written about him. He was mentioned in too many of them already and he didn’t like it.

 

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” Madame Maxime asked, beginning to look cross as she flicked through the pages of an orange book and found it totally blank, too.

 

“Does this have anything to do with the Tournament?” Karkaroff asked with a frown. He was staring at a thick pink book with an expression of distaste.

 

“Nothing,” Ludo Bagman said, looking more interested than wary.

 

“We have not planned this, Karkaroff,” Crouch assured him. “This is not our doing.”

 

“What are we supposed to do, then?” McGonagall asked puzzled.

 

“There’s something else, Professor,” Hermione said. She was looking inside the box, which was now empty save for an envelope. “It has your name on it, too,” she said, handing it to Harry.

 

The boy stared at it half annoyed and half scared. What was going on? What were those books? Who had sent them? Why had they sent them? He guessed that staring at his name scrawled with a weirdly familiar handwriting wasn’t going to give him the answers.

 

“Should I read it aloud, professor?” He asked tiredly as he tore it open.

 

“Please, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore nodded.

 

_Hello, Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons,_

_This may come to a shock to most of you and many won’t like what we’re going to say. Well, too bad. This is more important than that Tournament that’s just beginning._

_First things first, you’re about to receive a few guests, some of which you’ll know, some of which you won’t. There’s one thing that you must know and it’s that NONE OF THEM is to harmed in any way._

 

“Guests?” Karkaroff interrupted. “What guests?”

 

Another flash of light cut off any answer he may have received. When the light vanished once more, it left in its wake several people, all of them vastly different.

 

“I think it’s talking about those guests,” Dumbledore said conversationally.

 

“SIRIUS BLACK!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked as she jumped away from the man she had appeared next to. Her husband pulled her back, away from the murderer, and stood in front of her and his oldest sons.

 

There was a whirlwind of chaos as the students panicked, the adults pulled out their wands again and a startled fugitive tried to figure out how to escape.

 

“Arrest him!” Crouch shouted, prompting Moody, a tall black wizard and a young witch with bright pink hair to lunge for him.

 

“NO!” A voice shouted before they could reach him. A blur shot past them and stood in front of the startled murderer.

 

“Potter, move aside!” Moody barked sharply, the tip of his wand shining ominously.

 

Harry glared back, not willing to give in. “No way. He’s innocent,” he declared firmly.

 

“Harry, get out of here,” Sirius urged him. He tried to push his godson away, but the child was stubborn and he refused to budge.

 

“I’m not gonna let them take you away and give you the Kiss, Sirius,” Harry said, ignoring the rising panic in his chest. Why had his godfather appeared in the middle of the Great Hall? What was whoever had sent him the package playing at? Did they want him dead or something?

 

“Potter, stop being a brat and let the aurors do their job,” Snape sneered, a hint of triumph in his black eyes.

 

“He’s innocent,” Harry repeated.

 

“I didn’t know you allowed this kind of defiance in your school, Dumbledore,” Karkaroff mocked.

 

“It is certainly unbecoming,” Madame Maxime scoffed, turning up her nose.

 

“Mr. Potter, if you don’t step aside this instant, you’ll be arrested for conspiring with a known fugitive and resisting against the authority,” Crouch warned.

 

“Harry, step aside,” Sirius ordered more urgently. The last thing he wanted was for his godson to get into trouble for him.

 

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I can prove that you’re innocent. We can tell them what happened last year. Maybe they’ll believe us, unlike Fudge.”

 

“What about the Minister?” The tall black wizard asked, not lowering his wand, but looking reluctant to hex a child.

 

Seeing this man a bit more willing to listen, Harry sized the chance and hurried to explain. “We tried to tell him last year that Sirius didn’t murder those people thirteen years ago, but he refused to listen to us.”

 

“Potter, that’s a very dangerous man you’re trying to protect. He’s done things you don’t know,” Crouch said warningly.

 

“I do know them,” Harry argued back. “I know he’s accused for having betrayed my parents and having handed them over to Voldemort,” he snapped, ignoring the shudder that spread across the Great Hall like a ripple and the squeak of the younger students. “And for having murdered Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles thirteen years ago.”

 

“How do you know that?” Crouch asked, eyes narrowed. As far as he knew, everyone had agreed the year before that the less the Potter boy knew about that, the better for his own sake.

 

“I have a knack for finding out things on accident,” Harry replied. “Just like I found out that Sirius didn’t do any of those things.”

 

“The biggest piece we found of Peter Pettigrew was a finger. I highly doubted that he could be alive after that,” Crouch argued.

 

“Excuse me, sir,” Hermione intervened as Ron and she walked over to Harry and stood on either side of him, making their loyalties known. “But I think that would be the first clue that something isn’t right with the story you believe. What kind of curse would be able to do that? Even with the most powerful explosion, there should have been something else left behind, not just a finger.”

 

That made a few people hesitate. It was true. Explosions left a mess behind, not just a finger.

 

“We can provide memories,” Remus said, coming out of his shock and standing next to Sirius.

 

“You were there when Potter supposedly found out the truth about those events?” Crouch asked, eyebrow raised.

 

“Yes, sir. I’m Remus Lupin. I was a close friend of the Potters and I was a teacher here last year,” the werewolf nodded. “I would be willing to testify under Veritaserum to tell what happened.”

 

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” the tall black wizard mused pensively, even as he didn’t let up his alert stance.

 

Crouch pursed his lips. “Maybe,” he conceded. He knew that he hadn’t given this man the trial that he legally deserved.

 

“I have Veritaserum in my office,” Snape offered. “I could go fetch it right now.”

 

“What about the Tournament?” A girl from Beauxbatons asked.

 

It made many heads turn towards the blue-white flames. They had completely forgotten that a historical event was supposed to take place any minute.

 

“Should not somezing ‘ave ‘appened by now?” Madame Maxime asked with a confused frown. Unless they had timed it completely wrong, the Goblet should have already spat the names of the three champions.

 

Dumbledore frowned. “Yes, it should have.”

 

“What’s going on here?” Karkaroff demanded.

 

“We can find out after we’ve dealt with Black,” Crouch stated firmly, barely taking his eyes off the fugitive.

 

“If something has tampered with the Goblet of Fire, it has to be something serious, Barty,” Dumbledore intervened. “It’s not something we can leave for later.”

 

“And a murderer is?” The man asked incredulously.

 

“This is more important, Bartemius,” McGonagall said impatiently. “Someone has sent Potter a box with some books and has then brought all these people to Hogwarts when you know very well that it’s impossible to apparate in here. And then the Goblet, a powerful magical artefact, starts malfunctioning. Don’t you think it could be related to the box and the books?”

 

“Well said, Minerva,” Dumbledore said with a tiny smile.

 

“We should arrest Black and keep him in custody at least,” Crouch insisted stubbornly.

 

“And where would I go without someone noticing?” Sirius couldn’t suppress the urge to ask, his voice dripping his sarcasm. He waved a hand around him. “Think I could slip unnoticed past hundreds of students, two aurors, a paranoid ex-auror and two officers from the Ministry?”

 

“We’re not taking any chances, Black,” Crouch snapped.

 

Remus nudged his childhood friend before he could reply. “Just give them your wand, Sirius. This could be your only chance to get a trial and be free,” he said pleadingly.

 

That shut up the animagus rather quickly. With a sigh, he drew his wand and handed it to the pink-haired witch. “There. Better now?” He asked, feeling naked and unprotected without the wand he had been able to procure just a couple of weeks before. It may not be as good as the one that had chosen him in Ollivander’s shop when he was eleven, but it was his only defence.

 

“Much,” Crouch snapped. “Dumbledore, get on with this.”

 

“Mr. Potter, if you could please continue reading the letter…” The headmaster prompted, looking pointedly at the parchment still held in the teenager’s hand.

 

Harry had relaxed as he heard that they were going to give Sirius a chance. With a bit (a lot) of luck, his godfather would be free and he would be able to go live with him, but he hardly dared to hope. He had got his hopes up the year before only to have them trashed.

 

He was still standing in front of Sirius with his wand in his hand, but he was no longer ready to attack or defend his godfather. Maybe, just maybe, whoever had written him this letter had known what they were doing when they had brought Sirius here.

 

_Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it? Just in case, it is true that Sirius Black is innocent and you will find the proof you need in the third of the books. Don’t bother trying to read it now. It will remain blank until the moment is right._

_Dumbledore, you may want to go to Alastor Moody’s office and open his trunk. You’re going to find a surprise there. And, Crouch, we know that you’re itching to arrest someone, so we’re giving you a real culprit and a chance to mend your mistake. Start with the imposter poising as an ex-auror next to you._

 

“This has to be some joke!” Moody roared incensed, his magical eye turning in every direction.

 

“Alastor?” Dumbledore asked sharply, his voice icy as he stared at whom he considered a good friend.

 

“Albus, this is nonsense!”

 

“Is it?” The headmaster asked calmly, his wand ready in his hand but pointing at the floor. “Everything else the letter has said is surprisingly true. I find little reason not to believe it now.”

 

“Moody, hand over your wand,” Crouch ordered firmly, but his eyes were filled with dread.

 

For a minute, nobody moved. The students had backed away from the confrontation they could feel coming and Sirius, Remus and the Weasleys had pulled Harry, Ron and Hermione back. That left only the supposed imposter surrounded by the teachers and the officers from the Ministry, all of them with their wands ready.

 

With a desperate roar, Moody raised his wand and a bright red light shot out of it. Thankfully, Dumbledore waved his wand in a big circle that made a shield appear and absorb the curse before it could harm any of the students. Not even thirty seconds later, the now-clearly-imposter was unconscious on the floor.

 

“Check his pockets,” Crouch ordered.

 

The tall black wizard stepped forward to do that, pulling out the flask that Moody carried everywhere. One sniff at its contents had him reeling back with a grimace.

 

“Polyjuice Potion,” he said, standing up again. “I think this is enough proof that this man is not Alastor Moody.”

 

“Then where is the real one?” The pink-haired witch asked, frowning in concern. She was clearly close to the ex-auror, the real one at least.

 

“The trunk,” Dumbledore realised with wide eyes as he remembered what the letter said. “It said I would find a surprise in Alastor’s trunk.”

 

“The imposter would have to keep him close to keep making the potion,” Snape said through gritted teeth.

 

“Severus, Poppy, with me,” Dumbledore said immediately as he marched out of the Great Hall with long strides.

 

“Dumbly-dorr, ‘old on a second,” Madame Maxime demanded. “What about zis man?”

 

“He’ll be back to normal in an hour at most and we’ll hopefully be back long before that with the real Alastor Moody with us,” the old man said, barely slowing down at all. Before someone else could argue, he was gone.

 

“For the love of…” Karkaroff swore infuriated. “He’s the one that said that we should figure out what’s going on with those damn books and the Goblet first and now he’s gone.”

 

“Honestly, Igor, Alastor’s life could be in danger,” McGonagall snapped, having little patience for the man’s whines at the moment. She was keeping an eye on the man that Flitwick was tying up after checking for emergency portkeys so he couldn’t escape.

 

“Maybe we should send the students to their common rooms, Minerva,” Professor Sprout said grimly. She didn’t like having the children witnessing these events. They were things that no child should have to worry about.

 

“Yeah, you’re right, Pomona,” the head of Gryffindor nodded.

 

“I’m not sure if sending the students away is the best idea right now,” Flitwick said with a serious expression. “We’ve already found an imposter among us, some powerful magic has tampered with the Goblet and that letter that seems to know too much… I’d prefer to have all the students where we could keep an eye on them. It would be easier to protect them if they’re all in the same place.”

 

McGonagall sighed troubled. Why had this had to happen? Filius had a good point. Besides, she had the feeling that they wouldn’t be able to send at least Harry to the common room since the damn box was sent to him. And it wouldn’t be fair to single him out again, or more like single him out even more.

 

Speaking of Harry…

 

“Sirius,” the boy said, turning around to look at his godfather in relief. “How are you here?”

 

“You tell me,” the animagus said. “I was hiding and I had no intention of entering Hogwarts.”

 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Harry said anxiously. “This, this box appeared out of nowhere and the letter said that we were going to have guests and…”

 

“Harry,” Hermione interrupted him, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. This may be a good thing.”

 

“Then why do I have such a bad feeling about all this?” Harry replied.

 

Hermione bit her lip. “I don’t know. But whatever happens, at least this has given Sirius a chance.”

 

“Ron!” A voice interrupted them. Mrs. Weasley was storming towards them with a thunderous expression. “What were you thinking? What were all of you thinking?! How could you protect a murderer from the Ministry?!”

 

“Mum, he’s innocent!” Ron protested.

 

“How would you know that?!” His mother shrieked.

 

“We found out last year!” Ron said, his ears turning red. “And the letter has said so, too!”

 

“We don’t even know who has sent that letter!” She argued.

 

“Mrs. Weasley, they were still right about Moody,” Harry dared to say. He couldn’t let his best friend stand up for his godfather on his own.

 

Her anger faltered. “That’s not enough proof…”

 

“But it’s enough to raise some doubts about Sirius’ innocence, isn’t it?” Harry pressed on.

 

“Mrs. Weasley, they’re telling the truth,” Remus said tiredly. “I was with them last year when they found out. Sirius is innocent.”

 

Mrs. Weasley hesitated before her resolve strengthened. “I want to know the whole truth. Now,” she demanded.

 

They knew better than to anger the redheaded woman. They were ready to spill everything when a yell interrupted them.

 

“He’s changing back!” The pink-haired witch warned everyone. She was glaring hatefully at the imposter with her wand aimed at him.

 

Everyone turned to stare at the unconscious man. His face began to change, smoothing out as the scars disappeared. The hair turned straw yellow, and both the peg leg and the magical eye fell as the real leg and eye grew back. In just a few moments, a completely different man was standing in Moody’s previous place.

 

“Barty Crouch Jr.!” McGonagall exclaimed stunned.

 

Many heads turned towards the pale Barty Crouch Sr., who was staring at his son in horror.

 

“Barty, what’s going on?” Ludo Bagman asked warily, stepping away from the man.

 

“I would like to know that, too,” Dumbledore said as he came back with Snape on his heels.

 

“Where’s Moody?” The pink-haired witch asked as soon as she saw him.

 

“He’s in the infirmary with Madame Pomfrey. He was unconscious, but mostly unharmed. He’ll be fine in the morning after a night’s rest,” the headmaster assured her.

 

“Good,” the tall black wizard said before returning his gaze towards Crouch. “You owe us an explanation. And I think it’s your turn to hand over your wand.”

 

“I… I…” He hesitated.

 

“Barty,” Dumbledore said firmly. “Your wand.”

 

“Dumbledore… I… my fault… Bertha…” The man murmured, looking at war with himself.

 

“What is he talking about?” Karkaroff snapped. “What’s that nonsense?”

 

Dumbledore walked closer to the man, his wand ready just in case. “Barty?”

 

“Dumbledore… he… stronger… warn…” Crouch mumbled, becoming more agitated.

 

The headmaster now stood in front of the man. He studied him carefully before his eyes widened. “He’s controlled by the Imperius Curse,” he muttered.

 

“What? Zat’s ridiculous, Dumbly-dorr,” Madame Maxime scoffed.

 

Dumbledore frowned, not taking his eyes off Barty, who kept muttering things under his breath. “I don’t think so. I believe he’s fighting the curse but whoever casted it is clearly powerful.”

 

“What should we do?” The tall black wizard asked.

 

The headmaster pursed his lips. “I think the best thing would be to give poor Barty a respite of the ordeal he’s going through,” he decided, flicking his wand. A red beam hit Crouch in the chest and he crumpled to the floor. “We’ll take him to the infirmary once we’re finished here.”

 

“Albus, what’s going on?” McGonagall asked, beginning to be overwhelmed. They were only supposed to find out who the champions were going to be. Instead, they found an imposter, said father’s imposter being imperiused, a powerful magical artefact malfunctioning, something bypassing the wards around Hogwarts like they didn’t exist, a murderer appearing in the Great Hall and those blasted blank books.

 

“I don’t know, Minerva,” Dumbledore answered grimly. “I’m hoping that the letter in Mr. Potter’s hand can offer some explanations. Mr. Potter, if you could continue reading…”

 

Harry took a shaky breath, a part of him wishing that he hadn’t got out of bed that morning. After the past three Halloweens at Hogwarts and now this, he was beginning to think that the day was cursed.

 

_Now that that’s over, we think we should give you some explanations. You better restrain Barty Crouch Sr. well because he’s under the Imperius Curse and you better restrain Barty Crouch Jr. even better because you’ll need his testimony in the future, and not just to help clean Sirius’ name. Don’t bother questioning them, nor Sirius Black. You’ll get a full detailed explanation for both things in the books._

_Now, onto the books. You may have noticed that they’re blank except for half the title. They’ll remain like that until the person whose story they tell about agrees to read them. Yes, Harry, that’s you. Seven books about your seven years in Hogwarts, one book per year. Your years in Hogwarts until now have been difficult, but they’re nothing compared to what they’ll be from now on. This year, your fourth year, will mark a difference for everyone and everything will begin to go downhill unstoppably._

_That’s why we’ve sent the books. They’re a heads-up about what’s to come, so that all of you can prepare for it. They have everything you need to know to defeat Voldemort for good this time. He’ll be back sooner than you think and a lot of people will die, people who’s right there in the Great Hall._

 

A stony silence spread across the room. You-Know-Who was coming back? Surely that was a joke. That couldn’t be right. He had been gone for thirteen years now. Harry Potter had defeated him, the same Harry Potter who was now staring at the parchment in his hands with a pale face.

 

They couldn’t know it, but he was remembering the dream he had had that summer, the dream about Voldemort planning his return to full power and his murder with Wormtail. He was going to succeed? How soon was sooner than he thought? How much time did they have to prepare?

 

“Harry,” Ron murmured, equally pale. “Keep reading.”

 

Harry cleared his throat and shook his head.

 

_Many of those deaths could’ve been avoided if people had got their heads out of their asses sooner. We hope that these books will give them the kick in the ass they need to start preparing and hopefully save many lives. Not only that, but maybe a few people will avoid a couple of horrible decisions they will make and will try to do better. Many secrets will come to light in the books, secrets that will hurt, but we’re asking all of you NOT TO JUDGE until you finish the last page of the last book. Things won’t always be what they seem and you’ll probably have to eat your words if you accuse too hastily because there are many people who’ll be judged too harshly in the next four years. This is a second chance to all of you. We hope you don’t waste it._

_We know that you don’t want people to read your life, Harry, and we’re sorry, but this is necessary. You’re the one who was stuck at the very centre of it all and lived through all of it. That’s why we created these books from your point of view, which, unfortunately, includes your thoughts and feelings and a few dreams. We’ve taken out a few that weren’t related to Voldemort and the war, but we aren’t sure we got all of them._

_We know that’s bad enough, but that’s not the worst thing._

 

It wasn’t? How could it not?

 

The whole Great Hall was wondering the same thing. Their thoughts, feelings and dreams, their whole life plastered over the pages of seven books. That was a nightmare come true. Nothing could be worse than that.

 

_The spell needed to create these books has a huge drawback. They’re from your point of view because they’re connected to you, literally. That means that whatever happens to you in those books will happen to you for real. Don’t try to correct those effects. You may be able to lessen them in some cases, but they won’t disappear until they pass in the story or until you finish whatever book you’re reading at the moment._

_We know. Awful._

_We could have tried to include different points of view so that at least you wouldn’t be the only linked to the books and it wouldn’t be just your thoughts you would read, but that was a bad idea. As we’ve said, not everyone in the Great Hall survives and we didn’t want people to begin dropping dead in the middle of the reading._

 

Everyone was horrified. Linked to the books? Feeling whatever they read happened to him? The letter had been right. This was infinitely worse. Who had created those books? Had they wanted to torture Potter?

 

Either way, they couldn’t help but feel secretly relieved that not everyone would be linked to the books like Potter was. Knowing that not everyone would survive the next four years if it was true that it was a book per year, they didn’t want to risk being the ones that would drop dead unannounced. Or, well, announced but beyond aid.

 

_The other option that would have allowed to get the whole story would have been from Voldemort’s point of view, but we think we can all agree that would have been much creepier. No one wants that._

 

There was a collective shudder in the Great Hall as they imagined it.

 

No. Nobody wanted to get into that psycho’s head. Thinking about the possibility was bad enough. It made their skin crawl.

 

_Another thing, nobody can enter or exit Hogwarts until you’ve finished reading all the books. You’re inside a time bubble as you may have noticed when the Goblet of Fire didn’t start announcing the champions of the Triwizard Tournament. Don’t worry, nobody will miss you outside. It will be like no time at has passed when you go out of there._

_Finally, everyone there has to make an oath not to reveal to anyone outside the existence of the books or their contents. Anyone who tries to listen or read without making this oath will be instantly transported to the infirmary, where they’ll remain unconscious until the end of the reading, and they won’t remember a thing when they wake up._

_Before any of you argue, this is some dangerous knowledge we’re giving you here. Things are already starting to change and you haven’t even begun to read the books. We can’t afford to risk having this information falling into the wrong hands. It would be disastrous for everyone._

_There’ll be a single exception to this and that will be Harry since the books are about him. And before you say that it isn’t fair that Harry doesn’t have to make the oath, you’ll need a failsafe in case you need to tell someone about all this. Since we can all agree that, being the books about his life, he won’t be going around telling everybody about them, he’ll be the one exempt from the oath and there’s no point trying to argue about it. We can’t hear you anyway and we won’t change our minds._

_Harry, we’ve made sure that the books will remain blank until you agree to read them. You have an option here. It’s your life they’re telling and you’ll be the one who will be in pain. If you don’t want to read them, just put everything back inside the box and tap it with your wand. It will disappear along with all your memories and everything will go back to how it was before the first flash of light. It’s keyed to your magical signature so it’ll only work if you do it willingly._

_It’s your decision and your decision alone, Harry._

_Good luck, everyone._

_A few friends from a future that will hopefully improve_

 

Nobody knew what to say when Harry finished reading the letter. What were they supposed to say?

 

“I think it’s time for the students to go to their common rooms,” Dumbledore broke the silence.

 

“What?” McGonagall asked, still stunned.

 

“We’re not going to begin reading tonight no matter what’s Mr. Potter’s decision,” the headmaster said firmly. “And this isn’t something that can be decided on a whim. Mr. Potter should have time to think it through and he’ll announce his decision in the morning. Meanwhile, I believe we have two men to secure so they don’t escape.”

 

“What about Sirius Black?” The tall black wizard asked calmly.

 

“He can’t go anywhere and he doesn’t have a wand,” Dumbledore replied. “I believe he won’t be a threat.”

 

“Are you sure, Dumbledore?” The man asked, not looking too happy.

 

“I’m sure, Kingsley,” the headmaster nodded resolutely. “We have other things to worry about than a man that was convicted for something he didn’t do. Instead, we better take these men to the dungeons. It’s been a long time since they were used with that purpose, but I’m sure they’re still a good place to make sure they can’t escape.”

 

“My students, to the carriage!” Madame Maxime announced, agreeing with Dumbledore’s decision. She wanted her students safe where she could keep an eye on them.

 

“Durmstrang’s students, to the ship!” Karkaroff ordered, paler than normal.

 

“And the rest of the students to their common rooms!” McGonagall said, not leaving room for arguments.

 

“Harry, come on,” Hermione said softly, gently grabbing his elbow to guide him back to the Gryffindor table to take the books.

 

“Albus, Sirius and I will go to the Gryffindor tower, too, unless you need us for something,” Remus said, uncharacteristically serious.

 

“Of course, Remus,” Dumbledore nodded.

 

“We’ll go there, too,” Mrs. Weasley said, lips pursed as she stared mistrustfully at Sirius.

 

“Dumbly-dorr,” Madame Maxime called when she was about to exit the Great Hall after her students. She was staring at Harry, who was carrying the box with the books, disapprovingly. “We are letting zat child take ze books?”

 

“They tell his story, Madame Maxime,” the headmaster said. “I think it’s his right to do with them as he pleases.”

 

“Even if they hold important information like the return and demise of the Dark Lord?” Karkaroff asked, having stopped by the door, too. He didn’t look happy at all.

 

“It’s _my_ life,” Harry intervened before Dumbledore could even open his mouth. He was glaring at the other two headmasters, not liking how they were suggesting that he shouldn’t be the one taking the books. “These books were sent to _me_ , they tell _my_ life and it’s _my_ decision whether we read them or not.”

 

Karkaroff bristled. “You…”

 

“Watch your tongue, Karkaroff,” Sirius intervened, taking a step forward. He glared at the man warningly.

 

The headmaster of Durmstrang scowled, but he didn’t see any support when he looked around. Not saying another word, he whirled around and strolled out of sight quickly.

 

“Let’s go to the tower, Harry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said softly.

 

Nobody talked as they walked through the corridors and climbed the stairs. When they reached the Fat Lady, she was accompanied by another witch as they both gossiped.

 

“Who’s been chosen as the champions?” The Fat Lady asked eagerly.

 

“Balderdash,” Ron said instead of answering.

 

“It’s not!” The other witch exclaimed indignant.

 

“It’s just the password, Vi,” the Fat Lady calmed her down as she turned on her hinges to let them enter the common room.

 

It seemed like every Gryffindor was waiting for them inside. It was almost enough to make Harry turn on his heels and flee in the opposite direction, but he simply ignored all the stares with practiced ease and flopped down on the couch he usually occupied with Ron and Hermione. He left the box at his feet and dropped his head in his hands, resisting the urge to groan and yell in frustration. He felt his two best friends sit on either side of him.

 

“So,” Ron said after a minute when nobody talked. “That was unexpected.”

 

Hermione leant forward to glare at him. “Really, Ron? That’s all you have to say?”

 

“What else do you want me to say?” Ron replied annoyed.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and she crossed her arms over her chest as she leant back. “I don’t know why I bother,” she huffed.

 

Ron went to exchange a baffled look with Harry, but his best friend wasn’t listening, too busy glaring at the box at his feet. He clapped his shoulder and gave him a shake to get his attention. “What are you going to do, mate?” He asked, becoming more serious.

 

Harry’s glare intensified. “I don’t know,” he said through gritted teeth. “This whole thing sucks.”

 

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed scandalized. She had never heard such language from him.

 

“Mum, I think he’s entitled to a few curses and swears after the bomb he had just had dropped on him,” Bill said dryly. He was standing his arms crossed, leaning against the couch occupied by his sister and the twins.

 

“I would have been swearing up a storm a long while ago,” Charlie agreed, standing next to his big brother with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

 

“It doesn’t matter what you two would be doing,” Ginny cut in, looking annoyed. “I think what Harry is going to do now is a bit more important.”

 

“He’s going to burn those books,” Sirius said firmly. He was standing behind an armchair where Remus had sat, hands gripping the backrest so tightly that his knuckles were white.

 

Many heads snapped towards him startled. Almost everyone was still wary of having him there, but Dumbledore didn’t seem to have a problem with it and the letter that had been right about everything said that he was innocent so… Nobody uttered a protest yet. Not that that meant that they trusted him.

 

“Burn the books?” Harry repeated, thinking that he had to have heard him wrong.

 

“Yes,” the animagus nodded. “Right now, in fact.”

 

Harry gritted his teeth. “No,” he snapped, making everyone stop in their tracks.

 

“No?” Mrs. Weasley asked. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but she agreed with Sirius Black here. She wanted to burn those books until there weren’t even ashes left.

 

“No,” Harry confirmed. “I don’t know what I want to do with them, but burning them before I decide is not an option.”

 

“Harry, those books,” George said, looking at him with a serious expression.

 

“Are a nasty piece of work,” Fred finished for him. They didn’t know everything Harry had been through, but they knew enough to know that making him feel it all over again, never mind whatever would happen in the future, was not going to be fun.

 

“I’m not saying that I want to read them,” Harry said, clenching his jaw.

 

“Harry, you don’t have many more options than that,” Percy intervened as he took a sit on the armrest next to George. It was rather risky of him, but he figured that the situation was too serious for even George to try to prank him right then.

 

“He’s right,” Charlie nodded. “Either we read them or we don’t.”

 

“We’re not reading them,” Sirius snapped, glaring at them furiously.

 

“That’s not your decision,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes in his godfather’s direction. It was ticking him off to hear so many people making decisions in his stead.

 

Sirius turned around to gape at his godson. “Harry…”

 

“We have to read them,” the boy cut him off. “We can’t not read them. Many people will die if we don’t.”

 

People didn’t answer then. They were staring at him with a mix of pity and sympathy and half another emotions that Harry didn’t want to even begin to decipher.

 

“It’s not fair to you, Harry,” Remus said sadly.

 

“Life isn’t fair,” he replied bitterly. He had accepted long beforehand that he had a knack for drawing the short stick time and time again.

 

“You shouldn’t have to do this, Harry,” Sirius said just as sadly.

 

Harry was getting irritated now. “You don’t have to be there if you don’t want to,” he said, making an effort not to snap. “In fact, I would rather that nobody heard them.”

 

“So, you don’t want to read them,” Bill summed up.

 

“Of course not,” Harry huffed. “I don’t want anyone to listen to my life like it’s a story. That’s not right. If I could, I would be reading them on my own.” He stopped pensively. “Maybe I can. The letter did say that they needed my permission for the books to stop being blank.”

 

“We’re not allowing you to read them on your own, Harry,” Hermione said firmly, sending him a steely glare.

 

“We’re reading them with you, Hermione and I,” Ron said, clenching his jaw stubbornly.

 

“Hey, you three don’t get to do this on your own,” Ginny intervened angrily. “You’re always doing things your way, with your secrets that you never tell anyone. But now we can be part of that.”

 

“Shut up, Ginny,” Ron snapped.

 

“Ron! Don’t talk to your sister like that!” His mother scolded him.

 

“She’s just butting her nose where it’s not her business!” He protested.

 

“Technically, it’s not your business either,” his sister said acidly. “It’s Harry’s. And you’ve invited yourself to the reading, too, when he said that he didn’t want anyone to hear. I don’t understand why we can’t do the same.”

 

“You know nothing about he’s been through!” Ron yelled. “About what we’ve all been through!”

 

“That’s the problem! You three never let anyone in!” Ginny snapped, losing her temper.

 

It was something that had always frustrated her. When she had found out that Ron was best friends with Harry Potter, she had been sure that that was her chance to get closer to him. Of course, it hadn’t worked that way since she hadn’t been able to bring herself to talk in front of him in spite of how polite he had been. But she had got over that and she had hoped that she would be included in their adventures then, that she would be part of the rumours the students whispered in the corridors.

 

That had never happened. The three of them had clumped up every time she had tried to get included in one of those conversations in hushed tones. They never told her anything, like she was just a little girl that couldn’t be told anything important.

 

It was something that bothered a bit all of the Weasleys, but none as much as Ginny. She was the one closest in age to them, just a year younger than Harry, and she was still left in the dark. Why couldn’t they see that she wanted to help, that she wanted to be part of that?

 

“It’s not your business!” Ron yelled, not caring how they were the focus of attention of everyone in the common room.

 

“And is it yours?!” She argued. “Why can’t we help Harry, too?!”

 

“This isn’t about that, Ginny,” Harry intervened before Ron could continue the screaming match with his sister.

 

“Then what is it about, Harry?” She asked annoyed.

 

Harry sighed and racked a hand through his hair, avoiding all the gazes fixed on him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know…”

 

“Then let us find out,” she snapped impatiently. “Why don’t you want us to know?”

 

Now Harry was getting annoyed, too. “I don’t have to _let_ anyone read my life. I’ve lived through it and it’s not pretty and whatever you don’t know you don’t _need_ to know.”

 

“Why don’t you want to let us help?” She asked, making an effort not to shout again. “You can’t do everything on your own, Harry.”

 

“I don’t do everything on my own,” he said angrily. “I have people who help me every time.”

 

“You’re talking about Ron and Hermione, aren’t you?” She said through gritted teeth.

 

“Yes,” Harry nodded, not an ounce of shame on his face. His two best friends had helped him through everything and they would help him with everything they didn’t know about, but he refused to tell them. He didn’t want them to know even more than they already knew about the Dursleys. It was too much as it was.

 

“We can help, too,” Ginny argued.

 

“I don’t want more people to find out,” Harry replied stubbornly. Why couldn’t have the books appeared when he was alone or just with Ron and Hermione? Why hadn’t he hidden the box instead of announcing to the whole Great Hall that it had appeared? Everything would be so much easier now.

 

“Why?!” She snapped.

 

“Because, Ginny!” He said impatiently. It wasn’t that difficult to understand. “It’s my life and there are some things that I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t talk about them just like you don’t talk about your first year.”

 

That shut up the redhead rather quickly. It was true that she despised anyone even mentioning her first year to her. She didn’t want to talk about it and she didn’t want people to find out. But it wasn’t the same. Harry wasn’t the victim in those adventures he had, he was the hero and Ron and Hermione were right beside him, right where she wanted to stand, too.

 

“Ginny, I think Harry is right,” Arthur said softly. He may not like it and it may sometimes drive him crazy with worry when he didn’t know what had happened to those three, but he couldn’t demand answers from them, not when two of them weren’t really his kids. And Merlin knew that Ron was tightlipped about almost everything that had to do with those… ‘adventures’, for a lack of a better word, that they had.

 

“But it’s also true that we want to help,” Mrs. Weasley said determined. She agreed with her daughter, partially at least. Rather, she thought that Ron, Harry and Hermione shouldn’t get involved in those things at all. They should just tell an adult what they found out and let them handle it. They were just kids.

 

Harry sighed tiredly and rubbed his scar distractedly. “I know you want, Mrs. Weasley. It’s just that it isn’t possible most of the time. And in this case… well, it wouldn’t really be a big help, you know? It’s just reading a few books and we can tell you anything pertinent about Voldemort.”

 

“Harry, you’re not leaving me out of this,” Sirius said stubbornly. He was not letting his godson reading those books without him. He didn’t know what exactly had happened that only Harry and his two best friends knew about, but he wanted to find out.

 

Harry pushed down his panic. If there was one person he didn’t want to find out, it was Sirius. The man was really overprotective, almost as much as Mrs. Weasley but in a completely different way. He didn’t smother with affection, but he worried and became reckless and did stupid things and wanted him to remain a kid when he couldn’t do that. He hadn’t been a kid for a long time now.

 

“Nor me,” Remus said, looking at Harry cautiously. He knew that he didn’t have much of a relationship with Harry compared to Ron and Hermione, but he thought that he deserved to know. Had things been a bit different, Harry would have grown up calling him Uncle Moony and that, in his opinion, entitled him to know what his honorary nephew had been through.

 

Harry wanted to tear his hair out. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened in his fight against Quirrell in first year, or how close he had been to death in the Chamber of Secrets, or what he heard when the dementors got close. He didn’t everyone to hear how bloody terrified he had been in everyone of those occasions, or what he thought every second of the day, or what his life with the Dursleys was like.

 

It was his life and he didn’t want anyone to go around poking their noses into it. He didn’t bother other people like that, did he? He didn’t go around trying to find out what they thought and what they did and everything, so why did everyone else think that they had any right to do that with his life?

 

“I’m going for a walk,” he announced abruptly, standing up and walking out of the common room before they could try to stop him.

 

“Well, that went well,” Bill commented sarcastically.

 

“Shouldn’t we bring him back?” Percy asked, staring disapprovingly at the door. “It’s past curfew and Professor Dumbledore ordered all the students to go to their common rooms.”

 

Ron snorted. “If you think you can find Harry and drag him back now, be my guest.”

 

“I don’t get it,” Sirius said frustrated. “I could understand if he was against reading, but he just doesn’t want us to read. Why?”

 

“That’s a question many people has asked since Harry came to Hogwarts,” George shrugged.

 

“It’s not a question that has been answered yet,” Fred said.

 

It bothered them a bit, but they understood. They also had secrets that they didn’t want anyone to find out and Harry always respected that, so, in return, they did the same. It was enough for them to know that, just like Harry would help them in a heartbeat if they asked, the boy knew that they were there for him at a moment’s notice. They only needed a word and they would help him in whatever way he needed. However, they also knew how capable and independent he was.

 

“But what exactly is he trying to hide?” The animagus insisted as his frustration grew. “I mean, I know what he was up to last year with the dementors and everything and it can’t possibly be worse than that…”

 

He trailed off as everyone turned to look at Ron and Hermione, the ones who could judge accurately the truth in Sirius’ statement. The two teenagers were avoiding all the gazes, refusing to look at them.

 

“Ron? Hermione?” Arthur asked quietly when they didn’t say anything.

 

Ron sighed. “What do you want me to say, dad?” He asked tiredly. “That I’m not sure if Harry counts the dementors as his worst experience? Because I don’t. We’ve been through a whole lot more than any of you know and Harry has been through even more things.”

 

“And we’re sure that Harry hasn’t told us everything,” Hermione chipped in. “There are always many details missing.”

 

“So, he keeps secrets from you too?” Ginny asked, feeling a bit relieved. It was good to know that Harry didn’t trust them with everything. Maybe there were even some things about the Chamber of Secrets that she knew and they ignored. It made her feel better, closer to Harry.

 

Ron glared at her, his temper rising quickly. He opened his mouth to snap at her, having had it with her and her jealousy of their friendship with _their_ best friend. However, he was surprised when someone got to Ginny before him.

 

“Enough, Ginny,” Hermione snapped, her eyes narrowed and angered. It was enough to make the smallest redhead reel back in surprise. It was the first time Hermione, who was usually so patient and kind with her, talked to her like that. “Of course there are things we don’t know about Harry. There’s one little thing called privacy that we respect, but it’s enough that Harry knows that we’re there for him. We know enough and there’s a good reason he hasn’t told us anything else.”

 

The redheaded girl was taken aback by the sheer protectiveness shining in the brunette’s eyes. “But surely you must want to know…” She argued weakly.

 

Hermione gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t matter if we want to know or not. What matters is if us knowing would help Harry,” she said. “Like Harry said, you don’t want to talk about your first and nobody is making you do it. You must have realised that, if we read those books for the whole school to listen, they’ll find out what happened to you, the entire truth. And it won’t be any less horrible just because it will be from Harry’s point of view. He had a year that was as bad as yours.”

 

Ginny had gone pale in a couple of seconds. She hadn’t thought about it that way. Everyone knew that she had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets and rescued by Harry and Ron, but nobody suspected that her involvement got further than that. Those who knew had kept it secret, but if they read the books, it would come out and she couldn’t predict what the students reactions were going to be. Would they blame and ostracise her?

 

“Not so fun now, uh?” Ron said, with far less heat in his voice than before. He didn’t want everyone to know what had happened to his little sister any more than she did.

 

There was a long silence then. The rest of the Gryffindor students were whispering among themselves while their little group was just uncomfortable. Sirius and Remus were dying to ask what they were talking about, what had happened in Ginny’s first year and Harry’s second one, but the faces around them weren’t very inviting.

 

“So, what?” Sirius asked finally. “What are we supposed to do? Let Harry go on his own with the books and hope that he’ll tell us what they say?”

 

He desperately wanted to be part of his godson’s life. Not only was Harry the last connection he had to James and Lily, but he loved the kid. He wanted to be there for him and it frustrated him to know that Harry was keeping secrets, big secrets, from him. Why didn’t Harry trust him?

 

When Harry had been born and Sirius had held him for the first time, the animagus had imagined what the future would be like. How he would be Harry’s favourite uncle and how the boy would come to him with problems he didn’t dare go to his parents with. Harry would trust him with everything and would never doubt that his Uncle Padfoot would be there to help him get into and out of trouble. Of course, things hadn’t worked like that. Harry had only met him a few months prior and he had spent more time believing he had betrayed his parents than knowing that he was innocent.

 

…When he put it like that, it was no wonder that it took Harry a bit to trust him. Although, that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate Sirius any less. His godson should be able to come to him with anything. If he was honest with himself, it saddened and made him a bit jealous that Harry seemed to trust Ron and Hermione more than him.

 

Said teenagers were currently exchanging a glance that hurt to look at because of how much it reminded him so much of the ones the Marauders used to share among them before life broke them.

 

“Yes,” Hermione said resigned but determined. “You do exactly that if that’s what he wants.”

 

“‘You’?” Charlie repeated with a raised eyebrow.

 

“We’re not letting him read on his own,” Ron said stubbornly.

 

“And why can you read with him while we can’t?” Sirius asked. He didn’t care how childish he sounded. This was his godson they were talking about and he had every right to know what was going on in his life.

 

Ron glared at him. “First of all, because you don’t know half of what’s in those books and you’d freak out, which won’t help Harry at all.”

 

“I won’t freak out!” The animagus exclaimed indignant.

 

“Yes, you will,” Ron contradicted him. Sirius would completely lose his mind with first year alone.

 

“And secondly, we said that we’re not letting him read on his own, not that we would read with him,” Hermione added. As much as it would pain her to do it, she would simply sit next to Harry doing something else while he read, just in case he needed help. And he would need it. “Can you honestly say that you would be able to be in the same room as him and not try to take a peek at what he would be reading?” She asked sternly.

 

Everyone else in the common room, even those the words weren’t meant to, deflated at the same time. No, they wouldn’t be able to do that.

 

“There you have it,” Ron said when there was no answer.

 

“What if we could?” Molly fretted, wringing her hands together until her husband took them between his.

 

Hermione’s face softened. “Mrs. Weasley, you know a little bit of what has happened the last three years. You know Harry’s been hurt _a lot_ and that he’ll feel like he’s hurt again when he’s reading,” she said quietly. “We’ve seen him hurt and in pain before, but he doesn’t like people to see him like that. Nobody likes that. Just…”

 

“Don’t make it harder than it’s going to be for him,” Ron bluntly finished for her when she couldn’t find the words.

 

“We would never…” Molly began appalled.

 

“Mum, it took months before Harry admitted in front of us that he was in pain,” Ron cut her off. “And he still doesn’t like it. It may not be that big deal for you, but it is for him. So, no matter whether he decides to let us read or not or just some of us, we will _all_ respect that decision. Is that understood?”

 

A stunned silence followed his words, but no one dared to question the redhead’s words. They didn’t know that boy could carry that kind of authority, but there wasn’t a single protest in spite of the fact that nobody was happy. They knew deep down that it was Harry’s decision, but the curiosity and the concern were driving them crazy. They needed to hear that story. Maybe then they could understand Harry a little bit more, like Ron and Hermione did.

 

“Well, we’re going to bed,” Fred announced when the common room was already half empty.

 

“It’s been an exciting night and we will possibly have an even more exciting day tomorrow,” George nodded.

 

There were murmurs as they climbed the stairs to their dormitory before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood up again. “We’re going to see where we can sleep,” Molly said, grabbing her husband’s hand.

 

“Boys, are you coming or you’ll figure it out later?” Arthur asked, looking at his three oldest sons, who didn’t have a dormitory in the Gryffindor tower anymore.

 

“I’m going,” Percy said, standing up tiredly.

 

“Yeah, I think we’re coming with, too,” Charlie yawned, stretching his hands above his head. He had had a busy day choosing the dragons that they were going to bring for the first task and he was exhausted.

 

“Night,” Bill said over his shoulder to the rest of the group.

 

“I’m going to bed, too,” Ginny said, looking sullen and disappointed as she disappeared upstairs without looking at them.

 

“Sirius? Are you coming with?” Remus asked. He had stood up to leave, but his childhood friend was staring at Ron and Hermione with a half angry and half devastated expression. “Sirius?”

 

“Why doesn’t he trust me?” He asked the teenagers, ignoring his friend.

 

“It’s not that he doesn’t trust you,” Hermione tried to explain soothingly. “He does.”

 

“Not like he trusts you two,” he replied simply. Because it was the truth. There was no one Harry trusted quite like he trusted Ron and Hermione.

 

Hermione pursed her lips, trying not to stare at him with pity. “It’s more like… he doesn’t want to tell you some things.”

 

“Why?” He repeated frustrated. What had he done wrong? Harry knew that it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t have been there for him for almost twelve years, that he had been in Azkaban, didn’t he? He had to know that Sirius was trying now.

 

“You’ll have to ask him that,” Ron said, clenching his jaw stubbornly in a way that showed that they weren’t going to give in on this.

 

Sirius gritted his teeth annoyed. “Can you at least tell me why he trusts you two then?” He asked desperately. What had they done that he hadn’t?

 

Ron and Hermione shared a look. They knew the answer. They had been the first ones to stick with Harry through thick and thin and hadn’t judged him for who he was. But they knew that that answer wouldn’t satisfy Sirius nor would he like it.

 

“He has to be the one who explains that to you if he wants,” Hermione answered with a tone of finality that made the animagus bristle. He whirled around and stomped out of the Gryffindor tower.

 

Remus sighed tiredly. He understood Sirius’ frustration, but they couldn’t do anything about it. “See you in the morning,” he told the two teenagers before following his friend.

 

Ron and Hermione stayed sitting side by side for a minute.

 

The girl released all the air in her lungs. “Thank Merlin that’s finally over,” she sighed in relief.

 

“They sure can be persistent,” Ron said, scrunching up his nose. “Think we should go look for Harry?”

 

Hermione pursed her lips. “Not yet,” she decided. “Let’s wait for a while. We can go if he isn’t back in an hour.”

 

“Finding him with the map will be easy,” Ron nodded. Then he grinned. “A chess game in the meantime?”

 

Hermione grinned in amusement and rolled her eyes. “You enjoy that game too much,” she grumbled, but she accepted.

 

*** TTC ***

 

“Sirius, slow down!” Remus shouted from behind, but the animagus didn’t shorten his strides at all. With a disgruntled huff, the werewolf jogged to catch up. “Care to tell me what’s in your mind?”

 

“You know what’s in my mind,” Sirius spat, not looking at him.

 

Remus studied him for a moment. His friend was frowning heavily and he was clearly annoyed and hurt and angry.

 

“Does it really bother you that much that you’re not the first one Harry goes to when he has a problem?” He asked softly.

 

Sirius stopped so abruptly that Remus had to retrace a couple of steps. The animagus was glowering at him furiously, but he knew that the anger wasn’t directed at him.

 

“He should, Remus,” he growled. “When he has a problem like the ones everyone’s suggesting he has, he should have gone to James and Lily. And since they aren’t here, it’s me he should look at for help, or you.”

 

“But we weren’t there,” Remus said sadly.

 

“But we’re here now!” Sirius exclaimed annoyed.

 

“He’s grown up, Sirius,” he pointed out gently. “He had to find other people to rely on.”

 

“I know,” Sirius scowled, looking away. His anger melt away, leaving behind just the raw pain. “I just don’t understand why he can’t include us in that. I thought… I thought that he understood why we couldn’t be there for him, that he didn’t blame us.”

 

“I don’t think he blames us,” Remus argued, sounding much more confident than he felt. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure a small part of Harry didn’t resent them in the slightest. He sighed and laid a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “C’mon, Padfoot. Let’s turn in for the night. We can talk to Harry in the morning.”

 

*** TTC ***

 

The common room was already empty, except for Ron and Hermione. They were just finishing the chess game, which the redhead of course won by far, when the portrait opened again and Harry entered, shoulders hunched and hands curled into fists. They watched him let himself fall onto the couch, resting his head against the back. He looked much older than he was.

 

“I take it the walk didn’t help much?” Ron asked as they began to put away the chessboard.

 

Harry sighed with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “No,” he said. He leant forward to look at them. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

Ron and Hermione shared a glance, trying to find out what to tell him.

 

“Don’t get this wrong, Harry,” Hermione began. “But I don’t think you should read these books alone. You’re going to be hurting at some parts and-”

 

“I know,” Harry cut her off. He only had to remember the pain from his scar when he had touched Quirrel, or the way his vision had blurred when the basilisk fang had pierced his arm, or that he passed out when dementors got close, to know that he wouldn’t be able to keep reading when he reached those parts. “I… I know I can’t do it alone,” he admitted. He hesitated and looked at them half ashamed and half pleadingly. “Can you…?”

 

“You don’t have to ask, mate,” Ron said immediately, not even allowing him to finish. He got to his feet and sat next to him, clapping his shoulder.

 

“We know what happened anyway,” Hermione said, sending Harry a tiny smile.

 

Harry tried to return it, but it came out more like a grimace. “Not everything. There are a lot of things you don’t know.”

 

“About what happened every year?” Hermione asked. “Harry, we know that you didn’t tell us all the details. It’s okay.”

 

“Not just that,” Harry shook his head. They knew most details about those things, more than anyone and more than they thought.

 

“About the Dursleys?” Ron guessed knowingly. Harry’s flinch was enough of an answer. “We know enough. Nothing that appears in the books will scare us away. You forget who went to rescue you the summer before second year.”

 

“That wasn’t the worst, Ron,” Harry admitted, not looking at either of them. He hated talking about this, but he had to warn them. They deserved that much. “I don’t know what will appear since I don’t know when I’ve been thinking about what and I don’t know which parts we’ll read, but…”

 

“It’s okay, Harry,” Hermione said softly. She tried to sound normal in spite of the lump in her throat. Harry and Ron had told her what had happened that summer, how Ron and the twins had found Harry, and she didn’t want to imagine what could be worse than that.

 

“It doesn’t change anything,” Ron promised fiercely. Except how much he wanted to punch the Dursleys, but that was beside the point. Nothing would change between the three of them.

 

“And the others?” Harry asked warily.

 

“What about them?” Ron replied with a frown.

 

“They’re gonna want to listen and be there.”

 

“Well, yeah,” the redhead admitted. There was no point in trying to deny it. “They’re curious.”

 

“It’s your choice, Harry,” Hermione said firmly.

 

“But it won’t be. Not really,” the boy said angry and upset. “This, this is about Voldemort and about defeating him and Dumbledore and the professors and the Ministry workers are gonna want to know everything. They won’t be happy unless they can read it from the books.”

 

“As you said, they can’t read the books unless you let them, Harry,” Hermione comforted him. “They can’t force your hand.”

 

“What if they don’t let me read them unless they’re present?”

 

“Then you don’t read them,” she said simply.

 

“But we _have_ to read them!” Harry exclaimed, standing up and starting to pace agitatedly. “We need every advantage we can get against Voldemort.” He stopped and deflated. “It’s not just that I don’t want them to read my life or be there when I go through it again,” he confessed, turning to send them a look of anguish. “Have you thought about how many rules and laws we’ve broken the last three years?”

 

Ron and Hermione paled slightly when they thought about that. It was one problem they hadn’t considered, but it was a very real one. Just the year before —using a time turner like that, rescuing a magical creature sentenced to death, helping a fugitive escape— was enough to have them expelled and chucked into Azkaban and their wands snapped.

 

“Merlin’s pants, my mum is gonna murder me if she reads those books,” Ron said terrified.

 

Hermione sent him an exasperated look. “I think we’re facing something a bit more grave than your mum’s anger, Ron.”

 

“That’s because it’s never been aimed your way,” he shuddered. He grinned at her teasingly. “Besides, you’re one to talk Mrs. Or-worse-expelled.”

 

Hermione flushed as she remembered that occasion and swatted his arm hard. “Don’t be a prat,” she mumbled, but she had a tiny grin of amusement, too.

 

Harry couldn’t fight the way his lips turned upwards. He wished they could be back to when the most exciting thing had been finding Fluffy on accident. That didn’t solve their problems, though.

 

Hermione looked at Harry and her face softened at the worry she could see in spite of the happy grin. “Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. We always do, right?” She comforted him.

 

Harry’s grin turned sad. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. You wouldn’t be in this mess if you had befriended anyone else,” he said sadly. He hated that he put the people close to him in danger just by existing.

 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Now I know that you need sleep. You’re being dramatic again,” he scoffed. He picked up the box with the books and stood up to give Harry a push towards the stairs that led to their dormitory. “Night, Hermione. And you, you stubborn prat, we’ve told you a million times that we can make our own decisions so stop spurting that nonsense and go to sleep. You’re gonna need it tomorrow.”

 

Hermione snickered as she watched Ron bully Harry into going to bed and stop thinking. She knew that he was going to manage the former, but he was going to fail miserably on the latter. They said that she had a big brain, but it was Harry who had trouble turning his off sometimes.

 

Her mirth vanished when she was on her own. Harry had every right to be worried. She was worried sick, too, and so was Ron. Despite how many times they had repeated that it was Harry’s choice whether to read the books or not and who was allowed to read them, they all knew deep down that there wasn’t any choice. Not on this.

 

Anyone who knew Harry knew that he would want to read those books, no matter the cost to himself. The professors and Ministry officers just had to keep pressing on and Harry would give in on this. He couldn’t not to.

 

With a sigh, she stood up to go to bed, too. She fervently hoped that her earlier words to Harry were true and that they would be alright.

 

*** TTC ***

 

Harry couldn’t sleep. He had spent hours dozing off for a few minutes before being rudely woken up by one nightmare or another. His mind wouldn’t stop picturing what the books were going to tell or how someone or another would react or how much trouble they would be in if anyone found out half the things that could appear there.

 

When the sky finally began to become clearer, Harry decided that enough was enough and threw his covers off. He needed to get out now. Throwing on some school robes and slipping his feet in his sneakers, he tiptoed to the door and went out.

 

The corridors were completely empty at this hour. He could see Durmstrang’s ship and Beauxbatons’ carriage outside through the windows he walked past, with no hint of any student there awake either.

 

He was lost in his thoughts, not thinking about where he was going, when he found his feet leading him up to the owlery. He didn’t have any reason to change his course. He might as well see if Hedwig had rested after having hurried so much to deliver the letter to Sirius the day before.

 

The owlery was quiet, too, the silence only disturbed by the occasional soft hoot from an owl or the rustling of feathers. Looking up and searching for a minute, he found Hedwig perched on one of the rafts closest to the ceiling, her head tucked under a wing as she slept peacefully. Knowing how much Hedwig disliked having her sleep disturbed for no good reason, he decided to let her sleep and instead leant against the windowsill to look outside.

 

It was peaceful up there. He doubted that anyone would interrupt him at that ungodly hour and he could enjoy the view of Hogwarts’ terrains slowly being filled with light. He could see the Forbidden Forest from there, as well as Hagrid’s cabin. There wasn’t smoke coming out of the chimney yet so the gamekeeper was still asleep. The huge horses from Beauxbatons were sleep, too, if the way they were almost completely still was any indication.

 

Harry didn’t know how much time he spent up there. Maybe an hour or so, enough that he could now see clearly outside and some birds were beginning to fly over the treetops in the Forbidden Forest. However long it had been, it made Harry feel better.

 

He wasn’t even startled when a rustle of wings sounded behind him and familiar claws landed on his shoulder.

 

“Morning, Hedwig,” he muttered, not wanting to break the quiet. The owl hooted somewhat sleepily and nipped his ear fondly in greeting. “Yeah, I know I saw you just yesterday. I just needed a bit of quiet. Yesterday was a bit crazier than usual.”

 

Hedwig wriggled to get comfortable on his shoulder and hooted again, making Harry smile. They stayed quiet again, until Harry saw a student from Beauxbatons come out of the carriage. If the students were waking up already, it was time to go back to the tower and get ready for the day.

 

“I’ll see you soon, okay, girl?” Harry said, petting Hedwig fondly. “And I’ll bring some sweets with me, alright?”

 

The owl hooted her approval, nipping his finger gently and taking flight to go find some mice to hunt outside. Grinning as he watched her become a white speck over the Forbidden Forest, he turned around to go back.

 

The last thing he expected, though, was to collide with someone who was coming up the stairs, apparently just as lost in their own thoughts as he was.

 

“Whoa! Look out!” He exclaimed, grabbing their arm before they could fall backwards. It took a bit of awkward moving around until they could both find their balance again. “Are you okay?” He asked, releasing their arm.

 

 _Her_ arm. It was a girl about his height, maybe an inch shorter than him, with straggly, long, blond hair, like she had just got out of bed and hadn’t bothered to brush it —much like Harry himself. She was staring at him with grey eyes that seemed to stand out a lot on her face, giving her an odd appearance. It was especially enhanced by the necklace of butterbeer caps, the earrings made with orange radishes and the wand tucked behind her left ear.

 

Harry had always thought that nothing would baffle as much as some of Dumbledore’s most eccentric robes or the decorations for the final of the Quidditch Cup, but this girl was gaining a lot of points.

 

“I’m fine,” she smiled kindly. “Thank you very much for helping me. I do not think I would have liked to come up the stairs again.”

 

Harry blinked. “Uh… right. No, I s’ppose not,” he conceded.

 

She stared at him unblinkingly and tilted her head. “You’re Harry Potter,” she stated. It wasn’t anything Harry hadn’t heard a thousand times before when he met someone new, but this girl said it differently. There was no awe or disdain like it usually was accompanying his name. She was simply stating a fact, like ‘it’s a beautiful day, I’m wearing radishes on my ears and you’re Harry Potter’.

 

Harry blinked again, totally confused. “I am,” he said, wondering what he should do with that. “Who are you?” He blurted out without thinking.

 

The girl’s smile widened, not looking offended by his rudeness. “I’m Luna Lovegood.”

 

“Well, uh, it’s nice to meet you,” Harry fumbled. This girl was disconcerting to say the least. “I’m sorry I almost pushed you down the stairs. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

 

Luna nodded thoughtfully. “No, I suppose you weren’t. You’re in quite a pickle, aren’t you? I don’t think I would have liked to have some books written about me.”

 

Harry deflated, shoulders falling. “It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting to happen yesterday,” he said, sounding upset.

 

Luna stared at him once more. “Although, I suppose that it has its perks after all,” she said.

 

“Does it?” Harry asked sceptically.

 

“They say hindsight is 20/20. These books will you that, won’t they?”

 

“I… s’ppose,” Harry had to agree since that was the only reason he wanted to read the books. That didn’t make it easier. “I don’t like what I’ll have to do to get that hindsight you’re talking about, though.”

 

“Us Ravenclaws know that knowledge sometimes comes with a price,” Luna nodded pensively.

 

“You’re a Ravenclaw?” Harry blurted out. For some reason, he hadn’t pictured this dreamy girl in the house of the people who pursued knowledge.

 

Luna nodded again. “It’s an interesting house, don’t you think? Although, I suppose you’d prefer Gryffindor.”

 

Harry grinned a bit. “Yeah, I do.”

 

There was a silence after that that began to stretch uncomfortably, at least for Harry. He was about to say goodbye to the odd girl and be on his way when Luna talked again.

 

“Knowledge is power, Harry Potter,” she said. “Sometimes too much power to leave it for anyone to take and use, but sometimes it’s not for us to decide who gets to take it or not.”

 

Harry stared at her confused. “What are you talking about? About the books?”

 

“You don’t want anyone to read them.”

 

“Of course not!” He exclaimed with a frown. “It’s my life they’re telling. It’s no one’s business but mine.”

 

“That may be, but perhaps you should give the writers of the letter a bit more credit,” she replied, not bothered by his outburst.

 

Harry settled down, even more confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, I think they know what they’re doing, don’t you?” She said calmly. “They could’ve sent you the letter and the books when you were alone instead of in the middle of the Great Hall with students from three different schools and officers from the Ministry present. But they didn’t, and they brought even more people.”

 

“So… you’re saying that they wanted me to read the books with everyone,” Harry stated more than asked. The worst thing was that Luna’s words made sense. And that was annoying because it meant that all the plans he had been half cooking in his brain the whole night to be able to read the books just with Ron and Hermione were for nothing.

 

“It certainly seems so, doesn’t it?” Luna hummed distractedly. “The letter did say that they would help a lot of people not make a few bad choices. These books are their second chance in a way, without having to do it wrong the first time.”

 

Harry thought about it. Could whoever had sent the letter really know what they were doing? He had believed they were crazy for having brought Sirius, but now his godfather may have a chance to clean his name. Reading the books with everyone seemed like an even worse idea, but maybe… maybe they were onto something. It wasn’t that farfetched to think that they knew something that he didn’t when they were from the future.

 

With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to the fact that his life was going to be the recurrent topic of conversation the following days. Why did these things had to happen to him?

 

“Thank you, Luna,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

 

“You’re quite welcome, Harry Potter,” she said, smiling kindly.

 

“You can call me Harry, you know,” he smiled, amused. “What are you doing up here so early anyway? I thought everyone would be asleep.”

 

“Oh, I was looking for my shoes,” she answered nonchalantly.

 

Harry blinked, caught of guard. His eyes traveled down until they found ten pale toes peeking out of Luna’s school robes. “You’ve lost your shoes?” He asked. He looked up at her confused. “Wait. Why would your shoes be in the owlery?”

 

“Someone has taken them. People take my things sometimes and they hide them. My shoes were up here last time so I thought that maybe they would be here again,” Luna explained, seemingly unbothered by it.

 

Harry’s jaw dropped. He was no stranger to bullies, he had often been the target at one point or another, especially before coming to Hogwarts. They had bothered him, sure, but their mere mention had never sent the surge of fury that ran through him when Luna said people were bothering her. How could they bully this girl? Well, he could see why she was a target, with her odd appearance and even odder personality, but still. How _dare_ they bully Luna? The short time he had talked with her, she had been nothing but sweet and kind with him and had helped him set his head straight.

 

“Who does that to you?” He asked angry.

 

She waved a hand dismissively. “Just people,” she said. “Maybe it was the nargles, though. They like to hide things sometimes. That’s why I’ve begun to wear this,” she said, tugging at her necklace of butterbeer caps. “To keep them away.”

 

“Nargles?” Harry repeated confused. He was beginning to wonder if this was the common feeling people had around this girl. “What are nargles?”

 

“Oh, they’re little creatures that like to steal people’s things and they return them much later, but I kind of need my shoes now, so I was looking for them,” she said happily.

 

Deciding to push the nargles to the back of his mind for the moment, Harry went back to the main problem. “And you think they’re in the owlery?” He asked sceptically.

 

“Maybe. Both people and nargles find it funny for some reason.”

 

Looking at Luna’s bare feet and remembering how the floor of the owlery was usually dropping-strewn, Harry could only think that it was more cruel than funny. It wasn’t funny at all. And if those nargles, whatever they were, agreed with bullies, perhaps Harry was going to have to start wearing butterbeer caps around his neck to keep them away, too.

 

“I’ve just been there, but I haven’t seen any shoes, Luna,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m gonna take another look just in case, alright? Just, don’t enter the owlery until we find you some shoes, okay?”

 

Luna smiled. “That’s very chivalrous of you, Harry. Thank you,” she said as he walked back inside.

 

He searched the entire room, making sure he didn’t miss anything, but Luna’s shoes weren’t there.

 

“I can’t find them, Luna. I’m sorry,” he apologized with a frown as he returned. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She didn’t deserve this.

 

The girl frowned for an instance before smiling again. “That’s alright, Harry,” she said. “I’ll look for them later, after we finish reading for today.”

 

Harry clenched his jaw. It was the first day of November and, while the inside the castle wasn’t as cold as the outside, it was still a castle made of stone in Scotland. Luna’s bare feet had to be frozen and she was going to get sick at this rate.

 

“C’mon,” he decided on the spot, grabbing her hand and leading her in the opposite direction. “We’re gonna find you some shoes until we can find yours.”

 

“Oh,” she seemed surprised at this. “That’s very kind of you, but not really necessary.”

 

“I know,” Harry said, gritting his teeth. “I still want to do it.”

 

“Oh. Okay,” she said, linking her arm through his and walking beside him with a skip in her steps.

 

Harry grinned amused and walked her to the Gryffindor tower.

 

“Morning,” he greeted the Fat Lady when they reached the portrait. “Balderdash.”

 

“Morning,” she yawned. “And good morning to you, too, dear,” she added, smiling at Luna.

 

“Good morning, ma’am,” the girl smiled pleasantly as the portrait turned on its hinges.

 

“Harry!” A voice greeted them when they entered. Hermione was in the common room with a crossed expression on her face. “Where were you?”

 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged. “Where’s Ron? Still sleeping?”

 

“No. He’s just gone up for the map to look for you,” she explained.

 

“Hermione!” The redhead’s voice came down the stairs. “It makes no sense! It says he’s…” He trailed off as he entered and his eyes fell on his best friend. “Here,” he finished with a deadpanned voice.

 

“Morning,” Harry grinned wryly.

 

Ron scowled at him. “Couldn’t you have left a note before you disappeared?”

 

“I didn’t know you would wake up before I came back,” Harry said defensively. “I just bumped into Luna here and-”

 

“Luna? Who’s Luna?” Ron asked bewildered.

 

“I’m Luna. Luna Lovegood,” the girl waved her hand happily.

 

“And these and Ron and Hermione,” Harry introduced them quickly.

 

“Uh, alright,” Ron said slowly. His eyes went from the radish earrings to the butterbeer caps to the wand behind her ear to the crest on her chest. He frowned. “Harry, why have you brought a Ravenclaw to the tower?”

 

“She needs shoes,” Harry stated firmly.

 

Ron and Hermione’s eyes went to the are toes that were visibly wriggling under the school robes.

 

“O-kay,” the boy said slowly. Maybe he was missing something here. “Why doesn’t she have shoes? Why does she have to come here to get a pair?”

 

“The nargles took them. Or maybe some people,” Luna said distractedly as she looked around with a curious expression. “You have a beautiful common room. I like it,” she declared.

 

Ron blinked and looked at Harry, who only shrugged. He returned his gaze to the blond girl. “Thanks?” He said hesitantly.

 

“You say that people took your shoes?” Hermione asked with a heavy frown.

 

Luna hummed, still looking around. “Maybe. I still think it could have been the nargles. I’m positive they’re the ones who have taken my favourite t-shirt too.”

 

Hermione opened her mouth to ask what nargles were. She had never heard of something like that. But Harry interrupted her.

 

“Hermione, can you do something about the shoes?” He pleaded with her. He had no idea where to get a pair of shoes that Luna would be able to use since the only other pair of shoes he had were the sneakers the Dursleys had given him about six years prior and that were falling to pieces. But if anyone could find another pair of shoes, it would be Hermione.

 

His best friend stared at him for a second. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she went to her dormitory. She came back a minute later with a pair of white sneakers and white socks. “Here. You can use mine until we can find yours. These are starting to be a bit too tight for me so I think they’ll fit you.”

 

“Thank you, Hermione,” she smiled, taking them and putting them on. “They fit quite nicely.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Hermione said, smiling politely.

 

“Where are the others?” Harry asked.

 

“Ginny and the twins have gone to breakfast already. I s’ppose the others will too,” Ron shrugged, his eyes wandering back to the blond girl who was humming under her breath. What was with her?

 

“We should get going,” Harry sighed. “Just let me grab the first book.”

 

He darted upstairs and opened his trunk, where he had put the books the night before. His eyes were drawn towards the letter. He knew that handwriting from somewhere, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was like it had changed a lot since whatever he remembered it from. He hoped that whoever it belonged to knew what they were doing and that Luna was right when she said that the books were meant to be read by everyone.

 

When he looked at the books again, wondering how he was going to know which one was the first one since they had mixed them up the night before, he almost gasped in surprise. There, on the front cover of the thinnest one, the dark Gryffindor red one, golden-coloured words had appeared where it had been blurry the night before.

 

 **Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone**.

 

Well, that took care of the problem. There was no doubt what year that book talked about. He grabbed it and closed his trunk again before going back downstairs. The sight that greeted him almost made him laugh. Luna was still humming, swinging back and forth on the balls of her feet, while Ron stared at her baffled and amused and Hermione was frowning in confusion.

 

“Ready?” The brunette asked when she saw him.

 

“Ready,” Harry nodded. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”

 

Ron and Hermione stared at his back stunned. “Waiting?” They repeated as they hurried to catch up.

 

“You’ve changed your mind? You’re gonna let them read the books with us?” Ron asked. He wasn’t sure whether he agreed with this or not. The others would certainly be happier and they would stop pester them about the books, but Harry, Hermione and he were going to get into a lot of trouble.

 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded simply, sending a brief look at the blond walking next to them. It didn’t go unnoticed by his two best friends.

 

“She convinced you?” Hermione asked, not bothering to hide her surprise. “You convinced him?” She asked the girl, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

 

“I merely said that whoever sent the books must have had a reason to give them to him in front of everybody instead of doing it when they knew that he would be alone,” the blond shrugged calmly.

 

“You say that they wanted everyone to know what we’ve been up to?” Ron asked sceptically.

 

“It makes sense,” Hermione said grudgingly. “If they’re powerful enough to put Hogwarts in a time bubble, make these books and bring people to the castle in spite of the wards, they could’ve given Harry the books whenever. They wanted people to know about them, and probably read them, too.”

 

“But why?” Ron asked frustrated.

 

“Second chances,” Harry answered.

 

“What?”

 

“To give people second chances without them having to fuck up the first ones,” the boy said, repeating Luna’s words. More or less.

 

“And you have to pay the price so that these people have a second chance?” Ron snarled, not happy at all.

 

Harry faltered, but then he strengthened his resolve. “Maybe it will be worth it.”

 

“And maybe not,” his best friend snapped. It was going to be difficult enough to read these books without everyone witnessing it and wanting to add their opinions.

 

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged. “But I think I’m gonna trust whoever sent the letter. Sirius is getting a chance to be free because of them.”

 

That made Ron falter in return. “Mate, that’s some messed up logic…”

 

“The whole situation is messed up, Ron,” Harry pointed out. There was nothing normal about this, and, taking into account how lousy his definition of normal was, that was saying something.

 

“I don’t like it, Harry,” Hermione said, pursing her lips.

 

Harry hesitated. “Me neither. But I have an idea so that we at least don’t get into trouble, okay?”

 

“What idea?” The girl asked warily. Harry’s ideas tended to be a bit… drastic.

 

“A good one. You’ll see,” he promised as they entered the Great Hall.

 

It was brimming with students. It seemed like everyone had got up early at the prospect of possibly finding out what Harry Potter and his two best friends had done the last three years and what they would be doing in the future. Most heads turned towards them when they entered, even from those wearing blue or red robes, but they did their best to ignore it.

 

“See you later, Harry. Thank you for the shoes, Hermione. It was nice to meet you, Ron,” Luna said dreamily as she skipped towards the Ravenclaw table.

 

Ron grinned amused. “She’s weird, but I think I like her.”

 

“C’mon,” Harry said, having located the Weasleys, Sirius and Remus. It wasn’t difficult to find the mass of redheads between all the students.

 

Heads turned as they walked towards the Gryffindor table. Harry could practically feel the hundreds of eyes glued to the book in his hands, but he took care to keep the front cover with the title hidden. He had already checked and the pages were still blank while the covers were still the same plain Gryffindor red.

 

“Good morning,” he said as they took a seat. There were three free places, like they had been saved for the three of them. It wouldn’t have surprised him.

 

There were several greetings in return, but every eye was fixed on the red book on his lap with the cover down.

 

“Harry…” Sirius began hesitantly. He wanted to ask him if he had changed his mind, or make up his mind or whatever. He needed to know if Harry was going to let them join the reading.

 

“Can you pass me the jelly, Sirius?” Harry interrupted as he grabbed some toast.

 

The animagus sighed, handing him the bottle and shutting up about the book. He could take a hint from time to time.

 

Breakfast was an awkward affair, full of whispers and forced conversations. People kept shooting glances at Harry’s plate to see if it was already empty. It was enough to make the boy consider eating more than usual just to annoy everyone and delay the reading, but even he wasn’t that cruel. And he may be a bit influenced by the fact that the night before he had been just as impatient as them as he waited for Dumbledore to finish his dinner. Perhaps if the headmaster had finished earlier, they wouldn’t be in this conundrum.

 

As soon as Harry laid his empty cup of pumpkin juice on the table and he didn’t reach for anything else, Dumbledore stood up. It seemed like even the professors and the Ministry officers had been waiting for him to finish. He was surprised that nobody had tried to make him hurry.

 

“Good morning, everyone,” the old headmaster said pleasantly. “First of all, I would like to introduce the newcomers that appeared yesterday. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks-”

 

“Just Tonks,” the pink-haired witch said with a hint of a growl as she stood up next to the tall black wizard.

 

“Who are aurors from the Ministry,” Dumbledore continued like he hadn’t been interrupted. “Arthur Weasley, who works in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, and his wife Molly Weasley. Their sons William Weasley, who works for Gringotts breaking curses; Charles Weasley, who works with dragons in Rumania; and Percival Weasley, who works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

 

Dumbledore tactfully didn’t mention how his boss was the same man they had found controlled under the Imperius Curse the day before. The poor boy was already beating himself up about it enough without adding more fuel to the fire.

 

“Many of you may remember Remus Lupin, who was the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts last year here at Hogwarts-” Dumbledore was interrupted once more, this time by many students who cheered for their ex-professor.

 

Remus blushed at the reaction, an embarrassed but pleased grin splitting his face in two. He would have never imagined that almost none of the students cared about his furry little problem.

 

“Who knew that Professor Moony would be so popular one day?” Sirius teased him, elbowing him in the ribs.

 

“Sirius Black, which I’m sure all or most of you heard about last year,” Dumbledore continued when the noise decreased. “If the letter was right, we will all be learning the truth about him and his past in one of the books.”

 

Harry clenched his jaw. He hated how Dumbledore was already taking for granted that they were going to read the books. What about his opinion? Didn’t it count for anything? Whether it did or not for Dumbledore, the headmaster was going to hear it and he was going to respect it.

 

“And finally, Alastor Moody, the real one this time,” the old man finished.

 

The ex-auror was sitting not far from Dumbledore. He was thinner than the imposter had been, which came to reason when they remembered that he had spent a few months prisoner, and he was missing a few chunks of hair, probably used for the Polyjuice Potion. He was scowling at everybody around him and he had one hand buried inside the pocket of his jacket. They didn’t need to belong to Ravenclaw to know that he had a death grip on his wand. If the man had been paranoid before, everyone immediately decided that it would be suicide to try to catch him off guard now.

 

“Poor man,” Hermione muttered under her breath.

 

“And poor us,” Ron moaned. “He’s gonna be a nightmare as a teacher if he stays when the classes begin again.”

 

“I’m certainly not gonna approach him from behind,” Harry declared. He didn’t want to receive a nasty curse to the gut just because the man hadn’t seen him coming or hadn’t heard him.

 

“Now that the introductions are out of the way, we will begin reading the books-” Dumbledore said happily, clapping his hands like he was ecstatic with what they were going to do.

 

“No,” Harry interrupted firmly, making everyone turn to look at him.

 

The headmaster’s smile faltered. “No?”

 

“No,” the boy repeated. “My life, my decisions. It’s that simple, Professor. And, quite frankly, I don’t want anyone to read it-”

 

“Preposterous!” Karkaroff interrupted, hitting the table with his fist. “Boy, this isn’t something you have a say in.”

 

Harry narrowed his eyes at the challenge. “Isn’t it? I believe the letter said that you need my approval to read the books.”

 

“Dumbly-dorr, are you going to tolerate this kind of defiance?” Madame Maxime asked disapprovingly.

 

“Mr. Potter has always had a few… privileges that allow him to get out of line more often than any other student,” Snape sneered.

 

“Except that this isn’t a normal situation, Severus,” McGonagall came to his defense. “I’m not sure we can even consider it part of the school activities.”

 

“‘e should still respect ‘is ‘eadmaster,” Madame Maxime huffed.

 

“I do respect Professor Dumbledore,” Harry intervened again. “I just don’t like how you all assume you’re gonna be present for the reading.”

 

This was followed by an instant of stillness before the Great Hall erupted into chaos. The Gryffindors had already heard this the night before in the common room, but the rest of the school was shocked and indignant. In the end, Dumbledore had to shoot fireworks with his wand to calm everyone down.

 

“Mr. Potter,” he said when it was quiet again. “I’m sure you know that this is a matter of utter importance in which we should be present, at least the school staff and the Ministry officers.”

 

That caused all the students to begin protesting again. What did he mean by that? That they couldn’t be present? No way. This was their opportunity to learn what had been going on in Hogwarts with Harry and his two friends.

 

When Dumbledore managed to quiet everyone again, he continued. “You can’t possibly want to keep that information secret, Mr. Potter.”

 

“As a matter of fact, that was the initial plan,” Harry admitted, ignoring all the complains. “I planned to hide with Ron and Hermione until we finished the books and we would then share the important information with everyone. I’m sure we would’ve managed to hide and evade everybody for long enough.”

 

And they would have. They knew the school pretty well and they had the invisibility cloak and the Maraders’ map. It would have been quite difficult for anyone to catch them.

 

“However,” he continued, rising his voice to be heard above the noise growing in volume. Everyone quietened in an instant. “Someone pointed out to me that if the books were sent to me in front of the three schools and several Ministry workers and they even brought more people, it was probably because they wanted those people to listen.”

 

Many people looked at Ron and Hermione, especially the latter. If anyone was capable of making the stubborn Gryffindor change his mind, it could only be them. No one seemed to remember the blond Ravenclaw that had arrived at the same time as them.

 

“That’s good,” Dumbledore smiled satisfied. “Then we can proceed with the reading…”

 

“Not yet, Professor. I’m sorry,” Harry cut him off again. He wished they would stop getting ahead of themselves so that he wouldn’t have to keep interrupting the headmaster. It was awkward doing that and he was beginning to feel quite rude.

 

“Dumbledore!” Karkaroff exclaimed outraged at that blatant lack of respect.

 

Harry ignored him. “I have one condition first,” he said. “No one will have to face any kind of consequences for anything we read in the books. They were sent to help and fix mistakes, not to punish for past or future actions.”

 

“You’ve done something big that will get you into trouble, haven’t you, Potter?” Snape smirked triumphantly. He could still get that brat expelled.

 

“Maybe,” Harry answered. “You’ll have to read the books to find out and none of you will find out unless you swear there won’t be consequences for anyone here.”

 

“You insolent brat, you can’t blackmail us like that,” the head of Slytherin glared furious.

 

Harry glared back, not intimidated at all. “It’s not blackmail, Professor,” he said. It took all his self-control to call him that, but he knew that he couldn’t push it even more than he was already doing it. “It’s called setting a few limits so that these bloody books can’t be used against me and who I care about. It’s my life and I’m not gonna enjoy having it in the open for everyone to comment on it. The last thing I want is to have to face punishments or expulsions for things I had to do for one reason or another. And they were always good reasons.”

 

“Dumbly-dorr, you can’t possibly agree wiz zis,” Madame Maxime said incensed. If a student had done something bad enough to deserve an expulsion, he had to get it no matter how the infraction had come to light.

 

Dumbledore was staring at Harry pensively. He knew that look of pure stubbornness on his student. He knew that Harry wouldn’t give in on this. He had known that he would have to fight Harry to manage to be allowed to read the books and the teenager had already agreed to that. He wasn’t going to give in on anything else.

 

“Very well,” he agreed, silencing every single person that was making his opinion known.

 

“What?” Snape hissed furious.

 

“It’s a reasonable request,” the headmaster replied. “This is a unique occurrence and it wouldn’t be fair to use it to punish anyone when its purpose was the complete opposite, to give second chances.” He looked around with his eyebrows raised. “Besides, can anyone here be totally sure that there will be nothing… compromising about them in these books?”

 

No one spoke up. Truthfully, no one was sure about what they were going to find out. Everyone in Hogwarts knew that Harry found out secrets almost on accident and that he was usually in the thick of things. They didn’t want to risk something bad being about them.

 

“I guess we agree then,” Dumbledore smiled after a minute when no one said anything. He returned his gaze to Harry. “Something else, Mr. Potter?”

 

“Just that we stop the reading if I, or anyone else, need a break,” the boy said after thinking for a moment.

 

“Of course,” the headmaster nodded. That was just common sense. “Now, please, if everyone could draw their wands and repeat after me to make the oath. Remember that anyone who doesn’t make it won’t be able to listen and will forget everything.”

 

There was a rustle of robes as everybody hurried to draw their wands. Nobody wanted to miss this, even if they weren’t happy about having to make an oath.

 

“Wait! I don’t have a wand!” Sirius called panicked. If he didn’t have a wand, he wouldn’t be able to make the oath. And if he wasn’t able to make the oath, he wouldn’t be able to find out what his godson had been up to.

 

“Here,” Harry said, pulling out his own to lend it to him. “You can use mine to make the oath.”

 

The animated relaxed, taking the wand gingerly and examining it carefully. It was a good wand, a very good one. “Thanks, Harry,” he said relieved.

 

“Alright, everyone. Repeat after me, just changing my name with yours,” Dumbledore called them to attention. “I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, swear on my magic that I won’t reveal the existence of the books connected to one Harry James Potter or their contents to anyone who isn’t already aware of this knowledge.”

 

There was a cacophony of voices as everyone repeated the oath, word by word, and everybody slowly fell silent again. They were fidgeting nervously because it was the first magical oath for many of them. Those who hadn’t known what it was had learnt the night before the consequences of breaking one and they hadn’t liked them. None of them wanted to lose their magic and risk their life in the process.

 

“I think this will suffice, won’t it, Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore asked, looking at his student. He smiled pleased when he received a nod in response. “Wonderful. Then, if you could be so kind as to bring that book you’re holding here so we can begin reading.”

 

Harry sighed and stood up to hand the book to his headmaster. “I’ll bring the next one when we finish this one. Is that okay with you, Professor?” He asked. He would really feel better if he knew that the books were safe and nobody would steal them and begin reading on their own, which would _not_ be fun for him.

 

Dumbledore nodded. “If you feel more comfortable that way, Mr. Potter,” he replied, guessing where his thoughts were going.

 

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry nodded in relief before going back to his seat.

 

“Everyone, if you could please stand up for a moment,” Dumbledore asked, looking at his colleagues and the aurors to include them in this request.

 

Everyone obeyed with a wide range of reactions, from curiosity to annoyance to impatience. However, there were only happy exclamations when the tables and hard benches were substituted with comfortable couches, armchairs and puffs of different colours.

 

“That’s much better,” the old headmaster said satisfied as he took a seat in a maroon armchair with a tall back rest. He watched amused as the students hurried to take places next to their friends and pushed the couches together.

 

“Hey, Charlie,” the pink-haired witch said as she walked over to the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and the two Marauders. “Mind if I join you? If I stay with Kingsley and the others a minute longer, I’m gonna go nuts.”

 

Charlie chuckled and pushed Bill, whom he was sharing a couch with, so he would scoot over. “You just missed me. C’mon, admit it,” he teased her. They had been on the same year in Hogwarts, but they hadn’t talked much since they had graduated.

 

The metamorphmagus snorted. “Those dragons sure have given you more than a bump to the head if you believe that.”

 

Charlie grinned. “Ouch,” he mock-gasped, raising a hand to his chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you haven’t missed me.”

 

Tonks grinned at him, not giving him an answer.

 

“Just put him out of his misery,” Bill groaned. “He won’t shut up otherwise.”

 

“You know each other?” Ginny asked. She had chosen an armchair where she was curled with her feet under her.

 

“We were friends at Hogwarts,” Charlie grinned. “You probably don’t remember her. I’m not sure you even met her.”

 

“I’m unforgettable, Charles Weasley,” Tonks huffed, her hair changing to deep purple and her nose turning into a pig snout.

 

Ginny gasped. “I remember you!”

 

Tonks grinned and returned to her previous appearance. “Course you do,” she said, smirking at Charlie. “See? Unforgettable.”

 

“How did you do that?” Harry asked wide-eyed.

 

The witch smirked at him. “I’m a metamorphmagus. I can change my appearance at will. Useful for an auror.”

 

“Can anyone learn to do that?” He asked eagerly.

 

“It’s an ability that’s inherited, Harry,” Hermione explained, knowing what he was thinking. Sometimes Harry just wanted to disappear and stop being stared at, to simply blend with the crowd so they would leave him alone. It had become less bothersome over the years, but it was still annoying.

 

Harry deflated disappointed. “Oh.”

 

“Sorry, Harry,” Tonks shrugged. “She’s right.”

 

Slowly, every student found a seat they were pleased with and they turned to look at Dumbledore. It was then that he made a mistake.

 

“Who wants to start reading?” He asked.

 

A cacophony of voices exploded, hands rose in the air, students stood up on their seats to try to be seen better, arguments began, a few children ended up sprawled on the floor when they were pushed accidentally or not so accidentally.

 

“Enough!” Dumbledore’s voice boomed in the Great Hall, silencing every discussion instantly. “This won’t do at all,” he sighed. He was going to say that it would better if only the adults read since they couldn’t agree on anything, but a high-pitched voice caught his attention.

 

“If I may, Albus,” Flitwick said, holding out his hand to take the book. “I know a spell that would be perfect for this occasion.”

 

“Thank you, Filius,” Dumbledore sighed gratefully, handing over the book. It would certainly make things easier if they didn’t have to argue about who read what.

 

The tiny professor waved his wand over the book, which rose into the air until it was floating about a foot above everybody’s head.

 

“There,” he said satisfied. “It’s a spell that I’ve used on many an occasion when I wanted to read a book while I did something else. Now the book will read itself aloud and, like a person would if interrupted, it will stop if someone talks.”

 

Hermione gasped. “That’s brilliant!” She gushed, itching to go ask the professor of Charms how to do that spell. It would be incredibly useful and she could see that she wasn’t the only one interested in learning how to do it.

 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Mad, that’s what she is,” he murmured under his breath so that only Harry, who was sitting between them on the couch, would hear him.

 

Harry smirked. He knew that the spell could come in handy, but he had to agree with Ron that Hermione seemed a little too excited about it.

 

“Is everyone ready?” Dumbledore asked.

 

“Wait!” A blonde girl from Beauxbatons exclaimed. She was the veela girl that had come for the bouillabaisse to the Gryffindor table. “’ow do we know zat is ze first book? You said yesterday zey were blank.”

 

“Très bien, Ms. Delacour,” Madame Maxime smiled approvingly. She looked back at Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow. “Et bien, Dumbly-dorr?”

 

“Excuse me, Madame Maxime,” Harry intervened. “I’m the one who knew that was the first one. It was the only one with the title complete this morning and, well, I’ve lived through it and the title says it all.”

 

“And what is zat title?” The headmistress asked.

 

“ **Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone** ,” Harry answered. Murmurs broke out across Great Hall. “I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but it will when we’re further along in the story.”

 

“Very well,” Madame Maxime nodded.

 

“Then, let’s begin,” Dumbledore said satisfied. “Filius, please,” he said nodding towards the book.

 

The tiny professor happily waved his wand at the book and it opened on the first page.


	2. The vanishing glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody! I’d like to thank darkquill98 and freddiest for what they told me about how my previous story had probably been taken down because, technically, the book was written there. So, I followed their advice and now I’ll only include the first and last few words of each paragraph. I’m sorry if it annoys anyone, but I think it’s the only way I have to try to make sure it’s not taken down again.
> 
> Some people have asked me about the pairings. Well, let’s get that issue out of the way as soon as possible. There’ll be some, of course, that’s inevitable, and they’ll be the canon pairings (even if I’m not a fan of all of them) because they’re reading the books. That said, they won’t suddenly fall in love and kiss and live happily ever after once they read about it in the books. That’s ridiculous. They’ll fight and argue and deny it and blush and cry and threaten each other, and some may even accept it and be happy. Either way, these pairings won’t be the main focus of the story. If you take a look at the tags, they say friendship and family, not romance. It’s basically because I think, in the books, friendship and family are much more important than romance and also because I’ve never written romance and I’d have no idea where to even start.
> 
> Now that I’ve finished with that, thank you so much for all the reviews and all the support and everyone who has decided to give this story a chance! It’s really incredible!
> 
> Anyway, here’s the first chapter where they read the books. I hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: all the text in bold and the characters belong to J. K. Rowling. This is just a story written by a fan who doesn’t get any kind of compensation for it except for a few reviews from time to time.

**Time to take a chance**

** The vanishing glass **

_“ **Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone** ,” Harry answered. Murmurs broke out across Great Hall. “I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but it will when we’re further along in the story.”_

_“Very well,” Madame Maxime nodded._

_“Then, let’s begin,” Dumbledore said satisfied. “Filius, please,” he said nodding towards the book._

_The tiny professor happily waved his wand at the book and it opened on the first page._

 

**The vanishing glass**

 

“Vanishing glass? Are we sure that this is the book from Harry’s first year?” Percy asked with a frown. “Vanishing Spells aren’t taught until fifth year.”

 

They looked at the boy in search for answers, but the sight that greeted them was unexpected.

 

“He’s asleep?” Bill blurted out baffled as he stared at the boy who was leaning against his stunned little brother and breathing deeply in sleep. “He was awake and talking literally ten seconds ago!”

 

“How can he sleep now?” Lavander asked, somewhat annoyed. “I mean, it’s one thing to fall asleep in class, but he said himself that these books are important and…”

 

“Don’t be daft, Lavander. The letter warned us about this,” Hermione snapped, unconsciously pressing closer to Harry protectively. She knew that Harry rarely allowed himself to be asleep in front of others because he felt like he was leaving himself vulnerable.

 

“Whatever happens to him in the book happens to him here,” Remus realised with wide eyes.

 

“Including sleep?” Ginny asked perplexed. It was weird to see Harry like this. He looked… younger, or more like his age. He didn’t look like the hero he usually resembled.

 

“Apparently,” Remus nodded, staring at the slumbering boy. He looked so much like a young James with his green eyes closed.

 

“Maybe we can wake him up?” Dean suggested tentatively. Reading books about Harry while Harry was asleep was… odd.

 

The twins grinned and shot to their feet immediately.

 

“We can take care of that,” George said.

 

“It’ll be our real pleasure,” Fred nodded, pulling his wand out. Before anyone could stop him, he began to shoot fireworks, only to frown when Harry didn’t even stir. “That didn’t work out like it was supposed to,” he huffed disgruntled.

 

“This will do the trick,” George said with a mischievous smile. He had moved behind the couch Harry, Ron and Hermione were sharing while everyone was distracted with his twin’s fireworks. He put a horn right next to Harry’s ear and blew it hard.

 

Everybody jumped at the loud noise, especially Ron and Hermione, but Harry just mumbled something unintelligible and turned his face a little to hide it against Ron’s arm.

 

“Stop that!” Ron snapped, snatching the horn out of his hand, trying not to dislodge his best friend even more. He glared at his brother furiously. “What’s wrong with you?!”

 

George rolled his eyes and took a step back with his hands raised defensively. “Relax, Ronnikins. We’re just trying to wake him up.”

 

“Well, it’s not gonna work like that,” their little brother snapped annoyed.

 

“We know,” Fred said gleefully. “It’d be the perfect time to prank Harry.”

 

“We can rarely catch him asleep and he always wakes up at the slightest noise,” George said, sharing a look with his twin that didn’t promise anything good.

 

“You’re not pranking Harry when he’s like this!” Ron shouted at them, his ears red with fury.

 

George raised an eyebrow. “Of course not.”

 

“Who do you think we are?” Fred asked. “We’re not dicks, you know.”

 

Harry was like a little brother to them, the eighth Weasley kid, and, while they were all for pranking their siblings, they wouldn’t even think about doing it in this situation. It just wasn’t fair.

 

“We mean it, Fred, George,” Hermione warned them seriously. She would not tolerate jokes about this.

 

“We know,” George rolled his eyes.

 

“Jeez, that’s the opinion you have of us?” Fred asked offended as they went back to their seats.

 

“To be fair,” Angelina chipped in from a bit further away. “You can sometimes get carried away.”

 

“We’d never use this spell against Harry, Angie,” Fred said, sending her a betrayed look.

 

“We’d never stoop that low,” George huffed annoyed.

 

There was an awkward pause before Percy broke it. “Nobody’s answered my question. Vanishing Spells are taught in fifth year. Are we sure this is the book about Harry’s first year?”

 

“Yes, Percy,” Hermione cut in before Ron could snap at his brother. The redhead’s patience was even thinner than usual with his best friend asleep and vulnerable. “I don’t know what Vanishing Spells have to do with this, but I have no doubt that this book is about our first year.”

 

“Well, if you’re sure…” Percy let it go reluctantly.

 

“Now, can we keep reading till we get to the part where Harry wakes up?” Ron demanded. As much as he knew that Harry needed his sleep since he had spent most of the night turning and tossing in bed, he knew that his best friend would loath to be asleep in front of the Great Hall.

 

**Nearly ten … the front step,**

 

“Who are the Dursleys?” Dean asked.

 

“Harry’s relatives,” Ron spat. He refused to call them Harry’s family. They didn’t deserve that title.

 

“They’re his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley,” Hermione explained briefly, but her face didn’t show any kindness or patience.

 

“Petunia?” Remus repeated, perking up at the familiar name. “Lily’s sister?”

 

“Harry’s living with Lily’s sister?” Sirius asked horrified. “That bitch hated her!”

 

“Mr. Black!” Molly screeched angrily. “I will not tolerate that kind of language around my kids! And you can’t judge Harry’s family without having met them. I agree that they aren’t the friendliest people, but…”

 

“You’ve met them?” The animagus asked, latching onto that.

 

“Just briefly,” the woman huffed. “Not enough to have a proper conversation.”

 

“You aren’t missing anything, mum,” George assured her darkly. Ever since they had seen first hand the conditions Harry lived in when they had gone to rescue him in the Ford Anglia, they had wanted to pay those muggles with their own medicine. They had done that a bit that summer by giving those sweets to Dudley, but it wasn’t enough in their opinion.

 

“They aren’t the nicest bunch there is,” Fred scoffed at his own understatement.

 

“Hold on a second,” Bill said, raising a hand to stop them with an alarmed expression. “The book says they found their nephew on their doorstep.”

 

There was an awkward pause as the words sunk in and the anger grew.

 

“I don’t suppose they have another nephew, do they?” Charlie asked, eyeing his parents warily. He wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the stinking eye his mother was going to give whoever was responsible for leaving Harry on a doorstep.

 

“No,” Ron growled.

 

“Why was he on their doorstep?!” Molly shrieked, her control breaking.

 

“Hagrid!” Sirius roared outraged. “I gave Harry to you! I trusted him into your care! What the hell happened?!”

 

Hagrid cowered at the fury on the animagus’ face. “I, uh… I took him to Dumbledore and…”

 

“Dumbledore!” Sirius roared again, going after the next culprit. He was going to continue this way till he found out why his godson had spent the night on a doorstep.

 

“I left him there, Sirius,” the headmaster said resolutely.

 

“Why would you do that?” Molly asked horrified.

 

“It was imperative for Mr. Potter to go live with his relatives as soon as possible,” he explained soothingly.

 

It did nothing to calm them down.

 

“Albus, would it have been such a problem to knock on the door and talk to them instead?” Arthur frowned disapprovingly. He didn’t like to think about the boy who had spent many weeks in his family’s care sleeping on the street.

 

“We did what we had to do, Arthur. Don’t worry. Harry was safe,” the old man assured him.

 

“‘We’?” Remus repeated. “Who’s ‘we’? Just Hagrid and you?”

 

“I was there that night, too, Remus,” McGonagall said, metaphorically stepping forward to take her part of the blame.

 

That night she had been too distraught, she had only been able to think about James and Lily and how she wasn’t going to see Harry for another ten years. She hadn’t been able to bear looking at the child anymore and she had fled as soon as possible to go mourn in peace. She hadn’t really thought about what they had done that night. Now, though, now it sickened her.

 

“You were?” Remus said incredulous. Their head of house had left Harry on a doorstep?

 

“Minnie?” Sirius said without thinking.

 

Despite her current beliefs about the man, the thick betrayal in his voice was enough to make her wince. She didn’t even find it in herself to scold him about the nickname James and he had given her years before.

 

“I can only say that I wasn’t myself that night,” she said. She looked at her student, who was slumbering oblivious to the world around him. Her remorse was shining through clearly and she knew that she would have to apologise to him when he was awake to hear it.

 

**but Privet … about the owls.**

 

“Reports about owls?” Seamus asked perplexed. “Muggles have reports about owls? I thought they didn’t use them to send their letters.”

 

“They don’t, Mr. Finnigan,” McGonagall said with pursed lips. Even after so long, she still believed that they had been foolish to risk the exposure to muggles so much. “People were so excited about You-Know-Who’s disappearance that they grew reckless. Obliviators had their hands full for days afterwards.”

 

“It was a big day, Minerva,” Flitwick said. “The news about You-Know-Who’s demise rocked the wizarding world in a way that few things ever have.”

 

“I remember that day. Everyone was a bit crazy,” Charlie said. He had been just eight, but he remembered perfectly how their house had seemed to breathe a little easier after that day.

 

“We don’t. Not much,” Fred said with a frown. They had flashes of a day when their mother hadn’t seemed able to stay angry with them in spite of the prank they had pulled. She had laughed and cried and attempted to scold them unsuccessfully. It had unnerved them enough that they hadn’t caused more trouble that day.

 

“Wish we could remember it better, though,” George said, thinking about the mayhem they could have got away with.

 

**Only the … the house, too.**

 

Remus frowned. “Are you sure that he lives with his aunt and uncle?” He asked Ron and Hermione, who seemed to know him best. “Maybe he didn’t go to live with them permanently until much later?” He suggested. Perhaps something had happened. Perhaps Harry had not spent with them as much time as they thought, visiting only on holidays and from time to time.

 

“He does,” Ron replied, not looking at him.

 

Hermione, the twins and he were beginning to look positively murderous while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were frowning slightly. They knew that Harry’s family was wary of magic, that they didn’t trust it nor did they want their nephew to have anything to do with it. They also knew that they weren’t particularly fond of Harry, something that irked Mrs. Weasley greatly from time to time. But they didn’t know how far the neglect went.

 

**Yet … Get up! Now!”**

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your hippogriffs,” Charlie interrupted wide-eyed. “What was _that_?”

 

“That… I don’t know,” Flitwick said shocked. “That’s never happened before.”

 

“You’ve never used this spell on books like these,” Dumbledore pointed out. “They’re connected to Harry.”

 

“So, what? This is how Harry’s aunt sounds?” Charlie asked with a faint grimace.

 

“I believe that’s the case, Mr. Weasley,” the headmaster nodded.

 

Seamus made a face and looked at his sleeping housemate. “Now I feel sorry for him. I’ve just heard a single sentence from his aunt and my ears are ringing. I’d wake up in a bad mood if that woke me up everyday.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and elbowed him. “Don’t be dramatic, Seamus.”

 

“I’m not,” the boy defended himself, sulking. “It’s annoying.”

 

“I wonder how we’ll sound,” Hermione mused, sending his best friend a pensive glance. “Although, I suppose I’m more eager to see the first impression he had of us.”

 

Many people fidgeted nervously. That was true. They weren’t just going to read Harry’s thoughts, they were going to read his opinion about them.

**Harry woke with a start.**

 

The boy almost leapt to his feet, startled beyond belief. He only stayed on the couch because Ron and Hermione grabbed his robes and pulled him back down before he could rise more than an inch.

 

“Easy, mate,” Ron said as he saw Harry blink sleep out of his eyes. It took only a couple of seconds. It had always amazed him how his best friend could go from dead to the world to up and alert in a few seconds, but now that they had read how he was usually woken up, it didn’t surprise him anymore.

 

Harry looked around him, founding a lot of faces staring at him with either curiosity or a bit of concern or some amusement. He went beat red in two seconds flat.

 

“I fell asleep?” He asked mortified.

 

“It was the book,” Hermione said, trying to erase some of the embarrassment.

 

Harry groaned and hid his face in his hands. That meant that it was going to happen again and he was going to be powerless to stop it.

 

“What happened? What have you read?” He asked warily.

 

“Not much,” Ron shrugged. “You haven’t missed anything. You were only asleep for a few minutes.”

 

“We’ve learnt that Dumbledore and McGonagall left you on the doorstep for your uncle and your aunt to find,” Sirius said, scowling at the two adults. He didn’t know if he could forgive them for that.

 

Harry blinked in surprise. “They were the ones who did that?” He asked nonchalantly.

 

“You know they found you on the doorstep?” Sirius asked stunned.

 

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged. Aunt Petunia always reminded him when she told him that they hadn’t asked to be saddled with him.

 

“And it doesn’t bother you?” His godfather demanded. He couldn’t believe it.

 

Harry stared at him surprised and shrugged again. “Why would it? I don’t even remember it and it’s not like I would’ve known if they hadn’t told me so it didn’t affect me.”

 

For some reason, that only upset the animagus even more. How could his godson not care?

 

**His aunt … again.**

 

“This is amazing,” Bill said impressed. “We can even hear her hitting the door like an echo behind the narrator’s voice.”

 

“It’s more like the background noise on a phone call than a book,” Harry said alarmed. “What’s going on? Why are we hearing that?”

 

“Professor Flitwick’s spell worked a little differently than expected,” Hermione explained. “We can hear the characters’ voices.”

 

“They aren’t characters,” Ron pointed out with a frown. “Or we aren’t characters. We’re real people.”

 

“They _are_ characters, Ron,” she replied, a hint of impatience in her voice. “They, or we, are just real instead of fictional, but characters of the books all the same.”

 

“Either way,” Arthur intervened. That summer he had got his first real look at what Ron and Hermione’s arguments were like and he had learnt that they could keep going for hours. He had a new respect for Harry for putting up with that the whole year and not hex them into silence. “It’s fascinating. Just like a cone fall, like Harry said.”

 

“It’s a phone call, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione corrected gently, hiding an amused smile. You would think that after Harry and she had explained the Weasleys how to use the telephone, they would know how to say it properly, but it was a hopeless endeavour.

 

“That. A phone fall,” Arthur grinned.

 

Hermione pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh. Mr. Weasley was awesome, but he could be a bit… there were no words to describe him.

**“Up!” she … the stove.**

 

The twins frowned in confusion. They had been in Harry’s room and they knew that it wasn’t on the ground floor like the kitchen, but on the first one. How could Harry hear the stove? Unless he had become a bat overnight (and everyone knew that the only bat in the castle was Snape), it should have been impossible for him to hear it.

 

They looked at their brother, but Ron looked just as confused as them. They all turned towards Harry, but the black-haired boy was staring at the book with an intensity that was a bit worrying.

 

“Mate,” Ron whispered, nudging him gently so as not to startle him. “You trying to make the book burst into flames?” He didn’t receive an answer. “It would be much easier using your wand. I don’t think it’s gonna work just by glaring at it.”

 

Harry stiffened, but he still didn’t answer. He wished he could do that. Or turn it to stone like the basilisk did so not another page could be turned. Why couldn’t he have got some cool abilities from when the basilisk fang had pierced his arm?

 

Ron stared at him in confusion, looking at the book and back. What was going on with his best friend? It couldn’t be because of having fallen asleep, could it? Maybe it could be because of those things he had warned him and Hermione the night before?

 

**He rolled … same dream before.**

 

“Not a dream,” Sirius scoffed, pride unmistakable in his voice. “You did fly in a motorcycle before. I used to try to take you on a ride.”

 

“You did?” Harry asked surprised.

 

Remus rolled his eyes, but a fond smile betrayed his feelings. “It used to drive Lily up the wall every time he tried.”

 

“I thought she was going to kill me the one time I managed to sneak you out with me,” Sirius said, eyes unfocused as he remembered those times.

 

“She would’ve, had she figured out a way to knock you off the motorcycle without harming Harry,” Remus snorted. “The only reason she didn’t cut your hands so you wouldn’t be able to ride that motorcycle or hold Harry again was because of James’ intervention and the grovelling you did for a week.”

 

Sirius suppressed a shudder. “Redheads are scary.”

 

“That’s something I can agree with,” Ron nodded vigorously. His mum was _very_ scary and Ginny was learning from her.

 

“We all can,” Bill said, looking at his mother and his little sister.

**His aunt … demanded.**

 

“You could give him a minute,” Seamus frowned. “Every kid takes a while to actually wake up.”

 

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Dena rolled his eyes. “I’m still convinced that you sleepwalk through the first two periods every day.”

 

“I do not!” Seamus protested indignant.

 

“Yes, you do,” Parvati intervened tiredly. “I saw you drooling in History of Magic the other day.”

 

“Everyone falls asleep in History of Magic!” He argued, his face flaming.

 

“Hermione doesn’t,” Ron chipped in teasingly.

 

“Everyone but Hermione falls asleep in History of Magic!” He corrected himself, sending his roommate a glare.

 

“And I saw you trying to repot the Devil’s Snare with your eyes closed,” Harry chipped in, unable to help himself. “It would’ve strangled you if Neville hadn’t been there,” he reminded him, sending a brief proud smile at a beet red Neville.

 

“I thought it was a Flitterblooom!”

 

“Even when it was choking you?” Dean teased him.

 

“I thought maybe it wanted a hug or something! Flitterblooms are supposed to be friendly!”

 

Dean sent him an odd look, part exasperated and part amused. “We have to find you a girlfriend if you’re desperate enough for hugs to go to the Devil’s Snare for one,” he deadpanned.

 

Seamus blushed horribly, his splutters unheard over the cackles and snickers.

 

**“Nearly,” said Harry.**

 

“Merlin, you sound so young, Harry!” Charlie exclaimed, caught by surprise.

 

Harry frowned. “Do I really sound like that?” He asked.

 

“Yes,” Hermione smiled a little bit. Or he used to, at least.

 

“Not so much now,” Ron grinned. He liked this spell. It was so weird.

 

**“Well, … Duddy’s birthday.”**

 

“You know how to cook?” Katie asked surprised. She was rubbish at it, somehow managing to almost burn water the first time she had tried. She was proud to say that she could now heat the soup from a can without completely butchering it.

 

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. “Some.”

 

“But you were eleven here,” Angelina frowned in confusion. “And it was your cousin’s birthday.”

 

Harry shrugged again. “I was ten, actually. And Aunt Petunia was with Dudley and someone had to make breakfast.”

 

Nobody liked the sound of that. Couldn’t that someone be his uncle if his aunt wanted to dote on her son that morning? Why did it have to be the ten-year-old?

 

“When did you learn to cook?” Sirius asked with a frown. There was something about all this that he didn’t like.

 

“A while before that,” Harry answered, avoiding his gaze.

 

“How long is a while?” The animagus questioned, eyes narrowed.

 

“A while,” his godson answered firmly, leaving it clear that he wasn’t going to answer more questions on the subject.

 

“I think I’ll stick to mum’s cooking and Hogwarts’ food. I don’t wanna get poisoned with Harry’s cooking. I’m sure to end up in the infirmary if he’s as good in the kitchen as in Potions,” Ron intervened before Sirius could try to ask something else, forcing a teasing grin on his face when he wanted nothing more than to snarl. He didn’t need to know when Harry had started cooking to know that it had been when he had been way too young.

 

Harry grinned relieved and elbowed his best friend in the ribs. “I’m not that bad. The teacher has it out for me and you know it,” he protested without heat.

 

“Maybe,” Hermione conceded. “But you could still try to do better in that class.”

 

There were twin groans from the other two occupants on the couch.

 

“Not now, Hermione!”

 

“We don’t even have classes until we finish the books!”

 

Sirius’ frown deepened. Those three knew something they weren’t telling and it was something that he wanted to know. He would have to corner Harry later to demand an explanation.

 

**Harry … through the door.**

 

“Technically, he hasn’t said anything,” Alicia pursed her lips.

 

“Does a groan count as complaining?” Parvati asked hesitantly. Harry’s aunt sure was strict if she cared about those things. The way she herself saw it, it was only logical that Harry would prefer to spend the day celebrating his cousin’s birthday with him than to cook breakfast.

 

“And how did she hear him through the door?” Dean asked perplexed. With the spell, they could actually hear Harry’s groan and it was barely louder than breathing.

 

“She has sonar ears,” Harry deadpanned, still glaring at the book. He already hated this and they hadn’t been reading for ten minutes.

 

Sensing his worsening mood, nobody dared to comment further on the topic, but they were all curious. Harry’s family sure was… peculiar.

 

**“Nothing, … put them on.**

 

Ron shuddered violently, having the irrational feeling that he had dozens of those eight-legged monsters crawling over him.

 

“Merlin’s pants, Harry, I really hope that you haven’t brought spiders in your smelly socks to my room when I invited you this summer,” he threatened.

 

Harry grinned amused, his bad mood and growing panic momentarily vanishing. “Don’t worry, Ron. I made sure to leave all of them at the Dursleys to keep them company for the year.”

 

Hermione had a grimace on her face. “Well, I, for one, am glad that you became a bit more organised when you came to Hogwarts,” she said. Harry wasn’t as organised as her, but he was much better than Ron, who was hopeless. “How could you let your room get messy enough to have spiders in it?”

 

Harry’s easy grin turned forced. “I didn’t have a lot of time to clean it back then,” he lied through his teeth. It was not a good excuse and he knew it, but it had been the first thing that had popped into his mind.

 

“And your aunt didn’t care?” Fred asked bewildered.

 

“Wasn’t she a cleaning freak or something?” George asked, remembering how immaculate house was and how the woman had fretted over all the soot they had covered the living room in when they had come through the floo.

 

“Or something,” Harry said evasively. “She doesn’t come into my room if she can help it.”

 

**Harry … where he slept.**

 

The silence was overwhelming.

 

That couldn’t be right. Flitwick’s spell had got it wrong, or they had heard wrong, or these books were just a big, fat joke. It had to be a joke, right? The saviour of the wizarding world, the same one they all knew and whose name they grew up knowing, couldn’t sleep in a cupboard under the stairs, could he? Any moment now, Harry Potter would burst out laughing and ask who had written these books and got it so wrong, right? He would laugh and his friends would laugh and the world would go back to how it was supposed to be.

 

Except that he didn’t.

 

Harry Potter wasn’t laughing. In fact, he seemed about to be sick.

 

“Well, I guess that’s why your aunt didn’t go into your room if she could help it,” Ron tried to say lightly, but any kind of levity failed at the barely contained horror and pure rage on his face.

 

“A cupboard under the stairs?” Sirius whispered. Somehow, saying it aloud made it even worse than hearing it. His control over his emotions, which had never been the greatest and had only got worse after Azkaban, snapped and he rounded on his godson. “You sleep in a cupboard under the stairs?!”

 

Harry grimaced and resisted the urge to shrink away to hide from all the pitying and horrified looks. This was why he hadn’t wanted anyone to know. He didn’t want nor need pity or comfort or anything. It was in the past now and he didn’t care.

 

“Not anymore, Sirius,” he answered, feeling proud when his voice sounded normal. “Not since I received my first letter of Hogwarts.”

 

“That means that you spent ten years in that cupboard,” Remus said. He, on the other hand, couldn’t recognise his own voice. He didn’t know if he felt more guilt or anger.

 

Harry shrugged, trying to avoid everyone’s gazes. “It wasn’t that bad. I was small for a ten-year-old and I had enough space. And it doesn’t really matter now.”

 

Those words only made everything worse. It wasn’t that bad? He was small for his age? It didn’t matter now? That was how he was going to justify what they had done? Not that there was any kind of justification possible.

 

“Harry, mate, don’t…” Ron began to say, but he was shaking with rage. He had never thought that he could hate someone as much as he hated the Dursleys right then. “If you don’t wanna talk about it now, that’s okay, but don’t…”

 

“Don’t make excuses for them, Harry,” Hermione finished for him. Her hands were trembling, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the urge to go look for the Dursleys and turn them into cockroaches or because of the shock of finding out that her best friend’s room had been a cupboard under the stairs. She was going to be sick.

 

Harry grimaced. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry.”

 

“Not your fault,” Ron cut him off almost before he could finish. He glared at him defiantly, daring him to contradict his words. He had an arsenal of arguments that would have made Hermione proud if Harry didn’t agree with him.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, looking at him in the eye so his best friend could see that he wasn’t saying it just to appease him. Besides, if there was anyone he could bear to look in the eye after this had come to light in front of everyone, it would be Ron and Hermione.

 

Hermione grabbed his hand, waiting until he turned to look at her before talking. Her eyes were brimming with tears in spite of the fury shining in them and she pressed her lips closed, trying to keep them from trembling. After a moment’s hesitation, she threw her arms around him.

 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she murmured, hugging him as tightly as she could.

 

Her best friend returned the hug gladly, holding her as tightly in return as she was holding him. “Not your fault, Hermione, nor Ron’s. You didn’t even know me back then.”

 

Hermione pulled away and declared firmly. “You’re coming to my house this summer.”

 

Harry brightened a little bit. He had never been to Hermione’s. “I’d like that,” he said, even though he knew that it wouldn’t happen. He would have to go back to the Dursleys and he knew it.

 

Hermione smiled in response. “You can both come,” she said, looking at Ron over Harry’s shoulder. She could see the anger in the redhead’s face, but they both knew that this was not the place to deal with this newfound knowledge.

 

“Half the summer at yours and half at mine. I like that,” Ron said, forcing a grin on his face. He didn’t know how he managed to do it when all he wanted to do was to punch the Dursleys and then make them eat slugs for as long as his anger lasted. This time he had a wand that wasn’t broken and wouldn’t backfire on him.

 

“Harry,” Sirius called him, his voice not allowing any arguments. He wasn’t going to allow them to act like this hadn’t happened.

 

The boy’s grin flickered and disappeared as he turned to look at his godfather. “Sirius,” he said neutrally.

 

“Harry, those…”

 

“Sirius,” Remus cut him off, laying a hand on his shoulder to force him to turn to look at him.

 

“What, Remus?” He spat, swatting his hand away.

 

“Leave it,” the werewolf told him. He knew his childhood friend was furious, he himself was so angry that he was considering staying close to the Dursleys the following full moon. But it wasn’t the moment to approach this.

 

“Leave it? You want me to leave it?!” He snarled. He wanted to throttle Remus right then. “Those… those monsters, they…”

 

“I know,” Remus cut him off again, before he could decide that to hell with it and he went to hex the Dursleys right then. “But not now, Sirius. Not now.”

 

Sirius gritted his teeth. One look around at all the curious and horror-filled eyes explained Remus behaviour, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it. He growled in frustration and looked at his godson, who was staring at him impassively.

 

“We’re gonna talk about this,” he said warningly.

 

“Not now,” Harry replied. ‘And not ever,’ he added to himself. There was no way he was having this conversation with his godfather.

 

“This isn’t exactly helping your image of I’m-not-a-murderer,” Tonks pointed out with forced cheerfulness. Her hair had changed from her bright pink to white because of the shock at these news and then red with anger at those muggles. Only now was she slowly forcing it back to bright pink.

 

Sirius glared at her with an expression that reminded everyone that this man was a supposed psycho killer and his innocence hadn’t been proven yet.

 

“Maybe I will kill the Dursleys and give everyone a real reason to call me murderer then,” he snarled.

 

Oh, yes, this was exactly how they were going to convince everybody that he was innocent.

 

“Sirius!” Remus exclaimed in alarm and exasperation. He wanted to make the Dursleys suffer too, but this wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Harry.

 

“Bugger off, Remus!” He bellowed angrily.

 

Harry sighed as the reading continued. This kind of reaction was another one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted anyone to know.

 

**When he … racing bike.**

 

“Excuse me, a what?” Ron interrupted with a confused expression.

 

Hermione sighed. “What are you talking about? The bike?” She asked patiently.

 

“I know what a bike is!” He exclaimed offended. “And you explained to me what the televizzy thingy was already…”

 

“Television, Ron. It’s called a television,” she rolled her eyes. Half the time she was convinced that he got the names wrong on purpose just to rile her up.

 

“That,” the redhead said impatiently. “What’s the other thing? The campoter thing?”

 

Hermione frowned in confusion for half a second before her eyes widened and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stifle a giggle.

 

“A computer, you mean,” she corrected, managing to sound remarkably serious. “It allows you to look for information and play video games. It has a screen, like a television, but it has many other parts.”

 

She didn’t know how to explain it better without showing it to him. The muggle-borns and some half-bloods were nodding in agreement, but the vast majority of the purebloods looked puzzled.

 

“Muggles invent the weirdest things,” Ron declared finally. It was his conclusion almost every time Hermione tried to explain something about the muggle world to him.

 

The girl sighed exasperated. “Maybe, but they can be useful. It’s much easier to look for information with a computer than in the library.”

 

Several people gasped in shock.

 

“Blasphemy!” George screeched. “Hermione bad mouthing the library!”

 

“Who are you and what have you done with her?” Fred demanded, narrowing his eyes at the girl.

 

“Don’t be stupid,” she scoffed.

 

“They’re somewhat right, you know,” Harry teases her with a smirk. “You keep talking like that and Madam Pince won’t let you enter the library anymore.”

 

**Exactly why… punching somebody.**

 

“Oh, wait! Don’t tell me! I can see it coming!” Fred exclaimed dramatically, covering his eyes with a hand.

 

“I know, brother! Me too!” George followed along.

 

**Dudley’s … was Harry,**

 

“I knew it!” They shouted at the same, punching the air like they were happy.

 

It couldn’t have been further from the truth, but they were trying really hard not to let their anger get the better of them. Plenty of people were doing that already and Harry didn’t need anymore anger on his behalf, but he could use some laughs. Besides, they could get their hands on the Dursleys later to use them as Guinea pigs to test their products.

 

“Shut up, you two!” Ron shouted, throwing them a cushion. He didn’t hit them, but George did hit Ron square in the face when he threw it back. There was a reason they were the beaters of the Gryffindor quidditch team.

 

**but he … very fast.**

 

“Of course he is! You can’t be a seeker otherwise!” Dean laughed, earning chuckles and cheers from the other Gryffindors except those from first year, who hadn’t seen Harry play yet.

 

Hermione frowned. “Technically, that Harry’s fast on his feet has nothing to do with his ability in the air. There’s nothing that supports that correlation.”

 

“Hermione,” Ron whined, glaring at her. “Don’t try to take the fun out of quidditch. Harry’s fast and that’s why he’s an awesome seeker. That’s it.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re all ridiculous,” she stated. She was never going to understand their obsession with that sport.

 

“And you have no idea about quidditch,” Ron shot back.

 

**Perhaps … skinny for his age.**

 

“Maybe a bit,” McGonagall said, her lips pursed in anger. She couldn’t stop picturing the tiny eleven-year-old that Harry had been, and when she said tiny, she meant it. The boy was still small for his age. Even Hermione was a couple of inches taller than him.

 

“But not all of it is because of that,” Remus said, forcing his lips to curl upwards. It felt more like a snarl than a smile. “James was one scrawny kid until he shot upwards like a weed in sixth year.”

 

“He did?” Harry asked hopefully. That meant there was hope left for him.

 

Remus’ smile became a bit more real and he nodded. “His mother, your grandma, was desperate because his trousers only fitted him for a couple of months before they were too short for him.” He elbowed Sirius and sent him a pointed look. “Remember that, Sirius?”

 

“Yes, but even neither James nor Lily were as small as Harry is with his age,” Sirius snapped. He was not in the mood for some old reminiscence. He could only think about how much he wanted to hurt the Dursleys, about how James and even Lily, as kind as she was, would have obliterated them for having treated their son like that.

 

Remus sent him an annoyed look. Couldn’t he put his anger aside for a while until they could actually do something about it? Harry had looked so happy a moment before and now he looked so… disappointed.

 

“Oh,” the boy said, deflating as he stared at the hands in his lap.

 

Something in his voice managed to catch Sirius’ attention enough to momentarily snap him out of his mood. He only realised how his words had to have sounded in his godson’s ears when he saw how dejected he looked.

 

“Harry, I…” He began hesitantly. He had no idea what he wanted to say. He hadn’t lied, but he had been way too harsh.

 

“It’s okay, Sirius,” Harry interrupted, masking his pain at the comment. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that the Dursleys had managed to damage him for life physically. He had already known that he bore emotional scars that he doubted he would ever get rid of. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“But…” The animagus tried to say, wanting to make it better.

 

“Why don’t we keep reading?” Hermione interrupted him this time. She was glaring at him with so much anger that it was a mystery how he wasn’t a pile of ashes yet. In fact, she wasn’t the only one glaring at the fugitive.

 

“Leave it, Sirius,” Remus intervened quietly when his friend went to open his mouth again. He managed to sound neutral in spite of the annoyance he felt at the man. He knew that Sirius loved Harry and that he was rightfully furious, but he really had to get his act together if he didn’t want to hurt his godson anymore.

 

**He looked … than he was.**

 

“Not even clothes?” Lavander asked, glaring at the book like it was all its fault. “I mean, it’s bad enough that he didn’t have a proper bedroom, but they didn’t buy him clothes either?”

 

“I always wandered why Harry usually wore the school robes, even on the weekends,” Parvati mused, looking quite upset. Even now Harry was wearing his school robes.

 

“He doesn’t just wear that,” Seamus said. “I’ve seen him wearing jumpers and all that.”

 

“Those were Christmas presents from the Mrs. Weasley, Seamus,” Harry corrected him quietly, his cheeks red.

 

“Oh,” Seamus frowned. Did that mean that the only clothes that Harry had that fitted him were presents from his mother’s best friend? …That… That was awful.

 

**Harry … bright green eyes.**

 

“That’s what everyone tells me, if I don’t count all the gawking at the scar,” Harry said, half fond and half exasperated. His hand unconsciously went to flatten his hair against his forehead to hide the scar.

 

“He’s his father’s clone,” Fred said dramatically.

 

“With his mother’s eyes, as green as a fresh pickled toad,” George sang with a hand held to his heart.

 

Harry blushed furiously, but not nearly as much as Ginny, whose face clashed horribly with her hair. She looked a heartbeat away from hexing the twins to oblivion. It didn’t help that many people who remembered that awful musical poem were snickering not so quietly.

 

“What?” Bill laughed, looking at the twins bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

 

The twins gasped in mock-horror, ignoring their sister’s deathly glare. She couldn’t do anything without making obvious who was the author of that… monstrosity, and they knew it. It wasn’t often they had leverage over their sister and they were going to milk it for all it was worth it.

 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know, brother ours,” George said.

 

“You don’t know where that lovely poem came from?” Fred asked, an mischievous smirk beginning to appear on his face.

 

“That was part of a poem?” Charlie asked, exchanging a baffled look with his big brother before they both looked at the embarrassed Harry. “I didn’t know people wrote poems about you, Harry.”

 

“They don’t,” Harry said. He felt like his face was going to combust any moment now. He glared at Fred and George. “Not another word. Don’t you dare,” he threatened.

 

The twins studied him carefully. Harry was even more scary than their sister or their mother when he wanted to be. It wasn’t wise to anger him. Besides, the poor boy was already having more than enough things that he would have preferred to keep buried being brought out to the open.

 

“But I wanna know what that was about!” Bill protested. He couldn’t believe that the twins had backed off just because Harry had told them to stop.

 

“No way,” Harry cut him off, shaking his head and glaring at him.

 

Thinking about it better, maybe the twins had been right listening to Harry. The black-haired boy seemed ready to draw his wand and begin to hex people.

 

“You know that it may appear anyway, don’t you?” Hermione murmured in his ear when the attention went back to the book.

 

“But not today,” Harry replied. It was his only argument. He could deal with that embarrassment the following day, or the one after that if they kept a slow pace reading.

 

**He wore … on the nose.**

 

Hermione gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “I remember that!” She exclaimed. “At the beginning of first year!”

 

“Yeah, I remember it, too,” Ron said, scrunching up his nose as he tried to recall when he had met Harry more than three years earlier.

 

“But they weren’t broken for long, were they?” Dean asked, trying to remember. Had it really been that long? Although, when he thought about it, he could barely remember what he had had for dinner the night before so maybe it wasn’t so surprising that he wasn’t sure how long Harry’s glasses remained broken.

 

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I learnt how to fix them as soon as I could. _Reparo_ was one of the first spells I learnt how to do.”

 

“Before _Wingardium Leviosa_?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

 

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “I asked Professor Flitwick to fix my glasses the first time.”

 

“He did,” the tiny professor nodded when many turned to look at him. “Then I taught it to him about a week after the first years learnt the Levitation Charm.”

 

“It is a useful charm,” Harry chuckled, sending his professor a grateful look. His glasses would remain permanently broken if it hadn’t been for that spell.

 

**The only … a bolt of lightning.**

 

Ron turned towards his best friend so fast that he almost got whiplash. “You liked…?” He gaped, pulling himself together quickly. “You _hate_ that scar.”

 

“I didn’t know what it meant, okay?” Harry said defensively, but he was grimacing at his past self’s ignorance. “I do hate it. It’s annoying.”

 

“Aren’t you proud about it, Harry?” Colin asked from a bit further away. He had wanted to talk with his idol for a while, but he hadn’t dared to when he had seen him surrounded by all his family and friends.

 

“Not really,” Harry shrugged uncomfortable. “I didn’t do anything. I just… got hit with a curse that didn’t work.”

 

Anything? Got hit with a curse that didn’t work? That was what he had to say about the night that peace returned to the wizarding world?

 

**He had … don’t ask questions.”**

 

“Car crash?!” Many bellowed incensed. They couldn’t believe their ears.

 

“Filius, I mean no offense, but are you _sure_ that your spell is working correctly?” McGonagall asked, her voice strained. Her eyes were flashing dangerously as she clenched her fists to try to stop them from trembling.

 

“No offense taken, Minerva,” Flitwick shook his head. He was equally furious and upset at the lies that the young Potter had been told as a child. “I too wish that it wasn’t working properly, but I’ve already checked twice since we heard about the cupboard.”

 

“How dare they?!” Sirius screamed, wanting to punch something. He needed to hit something soon. “How could they lie about James and Lily like that?!”

 

“And to lie to Harry?” Remus added, his eyes flashing amber for an instant.

 

“Maybe they didn’t know the truth,” Arthur suggested unconvinced. He didn’t want to think that Harry had spent ten years with people that would lie to him about his parents like that.

 

“They did,” McGonagall intervened, having heard him. “I saw Albus leave them a letter with Harry. I saw it with my own eyes.”

 

“I explained everything in there,” Dumbledore said, his face heavy with disapproval. He sighed tiredly. “Maybe they considered that he was too young to know the truth…”

 

“Oh, Dumbly-dorr, don’t even try to make excuses for them,” Madame Maxime was, surprisingly, the one who interrupted him. “It’s one zing to not want to tell the truz, but such lies _sont impardonnables_ ,” she fumed.

 

“There, listen to the lady, Dumbledore,” Sirius said, glaring at the headmaster. “There are no excuses. They could’ve told him that they would tell him when he grew up, or a watered-down version. Anything but lying about them.”

 

“Did you even know about magic?” Bill asked, upset and angry.

 

Harry shook his head. He was having a hard time comprehending the indignation everyone seemed to feel on his behalf. Why did they care now, when no one had bothered to check on him in ten years? Either way, it was not the time to start asking those questions.

 

**Don’t ask … the Dursleys.**

 

“Well,” Cho huffed. “That’s not a good way to learn.”

 

Harry blushed and ducked his head. He didn’t know what to feel about the fact that his crush was reading everything about his life. He would have preferred that she never knew about it.

 

“I don’t think Mr. Potter has ever asked me a question in class,” Professor Sprout said quietly.

 

“The only time he asked me anything was to teach him how to fix his glasses,” Flitwick said, looking upset. “Severus?” He asked, hopefully.

 

The Potions teacher raised an eyebrow. “You really think that Potter would ask me anything in class?” He asked dryly, making an incredible effort to sound as he usually did when he spoke about Potter. He hated how the past half an hour had completely shattered the illusion he had about Potter being pampered and doted on at home, and he hated even more that he didn’t know how to feel about that.

 

“I suppose not,” the Charms teacher sighed. He looked at McGonagall. “Minerva?”

 

The witch tried to remember, but it was true. She couldn’t recall a single time in more than three years when Harry had raised his hand to ask a question in class. “I don’t think so. Not in class at least.”

 

“But he has asked you something outside?” The tiny professor asked, brightening up.

 

The head of Gryffindor swallowed, but she felt like the guilt was eating her from the inside. “Four times. The first time I, I brushed him aside. I’m pretty sure that it’ll show up in the books so I won’t bother telling you about it,” she cut them off, seeing the questions coming.

 

“And the other times?” Sprout asked softly, sensing that her colleague regretted having ignored her student. They could talk about it when it came up in the books.

 

“The second time was at the end of his first year,” McGonagall remembered. “He asked me if it was possible to stay at Hogwarts during the summer holidays.”

 

The four teachers closed their eyes for a second, understanding why he would ask that after having read that tiny bit about his home life. No child would have wanted to go back to that.

 

“And I told him that it wasn’t possible,” the Transfiguration teacher said, covering her mouth with a hand to stifle a sob as she remembered that conversation. “But that he could ask the headmaster if he was that insistent.”

 

Four heads turned to look at Dumbledore, who looked so old and so impassive at the same time.

 

“We know what his answer was,” Snape sneered, his eyes flashing dangerously. Dumbledore had promised him that Potter was safe where he was, but nothing they had read so far spelt safe. That man better had his explanations ready for when he went to demand them as soon as they finished the reading for the day.

 

“What about the third time, Minerva?” Pomona asked, pushing down her own turmoil.

 

“It was in his second year, when I caught him and Mr. Weasley trying to sneak into the infirmary. He asked me if they could go see Ms. Granger,” she said, her voice thick with emotions.

 

“Did you allow them to?” The head of Hufflepuff asked softly.

 

“Of course,” the other woman nodded. “I couldn’t tell them no.”

 

“No, I suppose not. I would’ve allowed them to go, too,” Sprout sighed. “And the last time? Did you give him whatever he asked for?”

 

McGonagall’s face scrunched up in an expression of pure regret. “No, I didn’t. It was last year. He asked me if I could allow him to go to Hogsmeade. He told me his uncle and his aunt had forgotten to sign the authorization.”

 

“More like they didn’t want to give him something he clearly wanted,” Snape scoffed before he could catch himself. He gritted his teeth, inwardly berating himself. He was _not_ going to begin to pity Potter now.

 

The other teachers didn’t even tease him about how it was the first time he stood up for the boy. They were too furious and upset and generally miserable.

 

“And I told him that only a parent or a guardian could sign it,” the head of Gryffindor finished, shutting her eyes tightly.

 

“Does that mean that this is going to be the second year the poor boy is going to have to remain in the castle while his friends go to Hogsmeade? All because those relatives of him want to make his life as miserable as possible?” Flitwick asked indignant. Oh, no, not on his watch. He was willing to go have a chat with those Dursley himself until they saw reason and they signed the damn authorization.

 

Snape pursed his lips. He wanted to say that he was almost sure that Potter had sneaked into Hogsmeade the year before, but he had no proof. They would tell him it was impossible with the dementors and all the security that had been around the castle. Maybe with these books he would finally find out how the blasted boy had done it.

 

McGonagall frowned in confusion. “I… don’t think so. Unless I’m very much mistaken, Mr. Potter gave me his authorization at the beginning of the school year.”

 

The other three teachers stared at her surprised, their eyebrows practically disappearing into their hairlines.

 

“Is that so?” Snape asked slowly.

 

“How?” Sprout asked puzzled. “Those muggles hate him. They’d never willingly sign it.”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t look at it too closely,” the Transfiguration teacher confessed frustrated. “I just know that it passed the test so it wasn’t forged.”

 

“Do you think we’ll find out in the books?” Flitwick asked curiously. He wouldn’t even be upset if it turned out to be a forgery that had somehow got past his colleague. He was just happy that the boy could have something good from time to time.

 

“Maybe,” McGonagall nodded, still thinking about Harry’s authorization. She was going to have to take another look at it later.

 

**Uncle Vernon … morning greeting.**

 

“Good morning to you, too,” Angelina growled, shaking with anger. She couldn’t believe that Harry, little Harry who was the smallest one of the team and was almost like a little brother to all of them, lived with these people.

 

“They’re the politest bunch, Harry,” Alicia said sarcastically.

 

“It makes me wonder where you learnt your good manners from,” Molly said angry. She wanted to hex these people so badly for having treated a boy she saw as one of _her_ children like that.

 

**About once … over the place.**

 

“It’s the Potter hair,” Sirius laughed, his bad mood temporarily lifting as he remembered how many headaches that hair had caused on anyone who tried to tame it. “James’ mum was never able to comb it and neither could Lily.”

 

“She only gave up on trying when, as a one-year-old, you already showed signs of having the Potter hair and nothing she did made it behave,” Remus chuckled. “It drove her crazy that no kind of potion or muggle remedy worked.”

 

Harry grinned, imagining the situation. Had his dad really been as unsuccessful as him in trying to tame that mop of hair?

 

**Harry was … his mother.**

 

“Eggs and bacon, Harry? You really know how to do that?” Fred asked, feigning mock-curiosity when he saw some people about to begin making angry comments, like, let’s say, their mother.

 

“Or better yet, complete it to make a full English breakfast?” George asked, eyes wide with mock-wonder. He grabbed his stomach when there was a loud grumble. “Oh, great. Now I’m hungry.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, a tiny grin on his face. He was so grateful that they were able to treat the whole situation lightly in front of the school. “You can’t be hungry,” he answered. “We’ve literally just had breakfast. Not even Ron is hungry yet.”

 

Ron rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, his ears turning red. “In fact…”

 

Hermione leant forward to send him an exasperated look. “Really, Ron? Really? I saw you eat four pieces of toast, two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon and three cups of pumpkin juice. You _can’t_ be hungry.”

 

“Blame them!” Ron protested, pointing at the twins. “They’re the ones that began to talk about English breakfasts.”

 

Hermione rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if you really are a bottomless pit.”

 

**Dudley … pig in a wig.**

 

People snickered, trying to imagine Harry’s cousin based on the description. It wasn’t a pretty picture, no matter who was imagining it.

 

“A pig in a wig? Really?” Charlie asked, torn between laughing and not believing it.

 

“Unfortunately, dear brother,” George said.

 

“We can attest that it’s a very accurate description,” Fred nodded. “Although the pig has fattened up since this happened.”

 

George sent his twin a smirk that promised trouble. “Like a pig brought up for the slaughter. We can try so many products on him.”

 

“A magnificent test subject,” Fred agreed.

 

“Fred! George!” His mother scolded them. “You’re not going to use Harry’s cousin as a test subject to create more products! I told you not to make more of those things!”

 

Wisely, the twins decided not to answer to that. If their mother knew that they were still developing more and more products, she would go berserker. Besides, they still had to corner Bagman and now, with everyone in the castle trapped in the time bubble, it was the perfect time to do it.

 

**Harry put … last year.”**

 

Seamus choked on his own spit. “Excuse me?!” He exclaimed, his voice an octave higher than normal.

 

“Did he just say thirty-six?” Tonks asked stunned. “I think I just heard him say that he had received thirty-six birthday presents.”

 

“He did, and he had received thirty-eight the year before that,” Bill said with a grimace.

 

“How can he complain?” The metamorphmagus asked perplexed.

 

**“Darling, … Mummy and Daddy.”**

 

“Wait, I stand corrected,” Bill said, rolling his eyes. “He received thirty-seven.”

 

“I can’t believe this,” Charlie said wide-eyed. “Thirty-seven presents?”

 

“How can they buy him so many things?” Ginny asked shocked. Even though she sometimes wished that her parents could buy her more things, it revolted her that a child could receive so many things and then _complain_.

 

“If they always buy him more presents than the year before, they’re going to run out of space and money at the rate they’re going,” Tonks said, trying to wrap her head around the idea of receiving so many things. What in Merlin’s name would she do with so many things if she were in his place?

 

“Most of those presents don’t last long,” Harry explained. “He breaks them rather quickly, either accidentally or on purpose.”

 

“He breaks them?” Mrs. Weasley repeated horrified.

 

Harry winced. He couldn’t ever imagine damaging or throwing away a present he received, even less the ones he received from the Weasleys.

 

**“All right, … the table over.**

 

“He would turn the table over?” Katie asked, half fascinated and half disgusted. This was like a specimen she had never heard of before, but, then again, she had never known that a child could be so spoilt.

 

“He would,” Harry said with a grimace. “He had, in fact, and he has done it several times since that.”

 

“Just how old is your cousin?” Angelina asked baffled.

 

“A bit more than a month older than me,” Harry answered. “He was born on the twenty-third of June.”

 

“So, it was his eleventh birthday, and he was gonna throw a tantrum?” Angelina asked, even more flabbergasted. Harry nodded. “How…? No, wait. I don’t wanna know how they managed to utterly destroy a child like that.”

 

“It makes me wonder if it wasn’t Dudley who drew the short stick between the two of us when it comes to growing up with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia,” Harry snickered, only to be cut off by a slap to the back of his head. “Hermione! What was that for?” He asked, rubbing the sore spot. Hermione sure had quite an arm when she wanted.

 

“Don’t you dare begin to think that your childhood was in any way, shape or form acceptable, Harry James Potter,” she hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously.

 

“I’m not!” He assured her quickly, leaning away from her. “I just said that Dudley wasn’t that lucky either.”

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes even further, making him gulp nervously. Fortunately, she let it go.

 

**Aunt Petunia … all right?”**

 

“More presents?” Charlie asked, not believing his ears. He had to be in some alternate reality. Was this part of some kind of elaborate joke from the twins?

 

“So, he threatens to throw a tantrum and she bribes him with more presents?” Molly asked incensed.

 

“That’s no way to bring up a child,” Arthur frowned disapprovingly.

 

“I guess that answers my question about how they could destroy a child so much,” Angelina said faintly. “Can’t they see the damage they’re causing?”

 

“I don’t think they see there’s anything wrong with Dudley,” Harry shook his head.

 

**Dudley thought … thirty . . . thirty . . .”**

 

“Thirty-nine, you nitwit,” Ron spat, losing his patience. He had very little to begin with when it came to Harry’s relatives and this book wasn’t helping them win any points with him.

 

“He’s eleven and he can’t add two?” Dean asked shocked beyond belief. He turned towards Harry. “Please, tell me there’s _anything_ that justifies this. He fell on his head as a baby or something?”

 

Harry smirked amused. “Not really. It just got swelled up too much. Now it can’t fit through the doors and he has to leave it behind when he enters a room.”

 

Ron snorted. “Good one, Harry.”

 

**“Thirty-nine, … Dudley’s hair.**

 

“Don’t encourage that kind of behaviour!” Molly screeched. She wanted to reach into the books and throttle Vernon and Petunia. They were ruining that child.

 

“Can you imagine having a kid like that in your class?” Flitwick asked with a grimace. He wouldn’t even know how to begin to reason with him when he inevitably protested about anything.

 

“Oh, Merlin, that would’ve been a nightmare,” Sprout said wide-eyed.

 

“Thank Merlin they didn’t bring up Mr. Potter like that, uh?” McGonagall said, sending a sideway glance at the head of Slytherin. She had lost count of the amount of times that Severus had repeated again and again Harry was a pampered prince spoilt beyond belief at home and they shouldn’t do the same at Hogwarts.

 

Snape refused to look at her. He knew what she was thinking. This kind of behaviour was the one he had expected Potter to have, not his cousin. He didn’t know how many times he had said that Potter was an arrogant brat that had everything handed to him on a silver plate. How was supposed to act with said brat if all that wasn’t true? What had happened in his class? Where were all the signs of arrogance he had seen, that arrogance that had reminded him so much of James Potter?

 

**At that … a VCR.**

 

“Whoa,” Ron whistled impressed. “I have no idea what those things are, but there are a lot of them.”

 

“And they aren’t cheap things either,” Hermione added with a disgusted frown. So, they had enough money to buy their son all these things, but they couldn’t bother to buy their nephew proper clothes that fitted him?

 

“When is he gonna have time to use all that?” Katie asked confused. Why did he want so many things if he wasn’t going to be able to enjoy them? It made no sense.

 

“Somehow, he has time every year to use all of them and break most,” Harry said with wry amusement. There was really nothing funny about it, but it was either that or become upset at the differences in the treatment he received and the one Dudley did.

 

**He was … angry and worried.**

 

“Good,” Sirius smirked darkly.

 

“Good?” Remus repeated with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Anything that angers and worries that woman is a good thing for me,” the animagus explained, his smirk widening it.

 

Remus stared at his friend bewildered before snorting. “You’re unbelievable,” he huffed.

 

“Don’t say it like you don’t agree with me, Remus.”

 

**“Bad news, Vernon,” … Harry’s direction.**

 

“‘Him’?” Ginny repeated disgusted. “He has a name.”

 

Harry couldn’t help but think back at his childhood, before he had begun school. For so long he hadn’t known his name, believing that it was ‘freak’ or ‘boy’ or something like that. His relatives had never called him by his name before he had come to Hogwarts and they rarely used it ever since. He had only learnt his own name when Aunt Petunia had told it to him the very same morning he was going to begin his classes. He had been so ecstatic about it that he hadn’t stopped repeating it in his head for days.

 

Nobody knew this, of course, and he really hoped that it didn’t appear in the books or he had the feeling that the riot would demolish Hogwarts. He just _knew_ that they would find a way to get out of the time bubble and get to the Dursleys to make them pay tenfold for everything they had done.

 

**Dudley’s mouth … he’d planned this.**

 

“He’s ten,” Angelina deadpanned. She was losing her patience with these people. “He can’t plan things like that.”

 

“He could’ve broken the woman’s leg,” Fred pointed out.

 

“He could’ve timed it perfectly so as not to have to stay with her again,” George nodded mock-seriously.

 

“Fred! George! How can suggest something like that?!” Their mother exclaimed horrified. “Harry would never do that!”

 

“We didn’t say that he would,” George said.

 

“We said that he could,” Fred corrected her.

 

Hermione snorted. “No, he couldn’t have. Harry’s plans don’t work.”

 

“Hey!” Harry protested.

 

“Wait, no,” Ron said, making his best friend look at him hopefully. “It’s not that they don’t work. It’s more like they work against him. Instead of that woman, it would’ve been Harry who would’ve ended up with a broken leg.”

 

Harry scowled and gave him a hard shove. “Some friends I have.”

 

“Oh, you know that it’s true, Harry,” Hermione rolled his eyes at his dramatics.

 

**Harry knew … and Tufty again.**

 

Sirius grimaced. “With names like that, they sound like horrible cats,” he said. “They must suffer every day for it.”

 

“They’re cats, Sirius,” Remus sighed. “They don’t really care what name they have.”

 

“Hey! Just because I prefer dogs it doesn’t mean that I can’t defend cats and they deserve good names, like Minnie,” Sirius said, grinning mischievously.

 

“Mr. Black!” McGonagall yelled, glaring at him as her glasses flashed dangerously. “That you’re no longer my student doesn’t mean that I’ll tolerate that kind of disrespect from you!”

 

Sirius gulped. Maybe it was a bit too soon for jokes like that. Perhaps it would be a better idea to leave them for later, when she believed his innocence.

 

“You never learn, do you, Padfoot?” Remus sighed under his breath in amused exasperation.

 

**“We could … suggested.**

 

“Holy Merlin, not her,” Harry shuddered. “I would’ve rather stayed with Mrs. Figg than Aunt Marge.”

 

“Aunt Marge? Who’s Aunt Marge?” Sirius asked confused, but wary. Anyone who could make his godson react like that was bad news as far as he was concerned. However, he hadn’t known that Lily had more sisters.

 

“She’s Uncle Vernon’s sister,” Harry explained with a faint expression of hatred crossing his face. “She hates me and I hate her. Mutual relationship of hatred.”

 

“Wait, is she…?” Ron asked, a grin slowly appearing on his face. “The one you…?”

 

Harry grinned amused. “Yeah, that one.”

 

Ron burst out laughing. “Brilliant!” He exclaimed.

 

Hermione frowned disapprovingly at them. “It’s not funny, Ron. Harry could’ve got in a lot of trouble.”

 

“Oh, c’mon, Hermione,” Harry smiled at her. “I promise that I didn’t do it on purpose. Besides, she deserved it.”

 

“What exactly did she deserve?” Sirius asked, not sure whether he should feel proud or worried. “What did you do to her, Harry?”

 

Ron opened his mouth to tell everyone enthusiastically, but Harry shut him up with a well-aimed elbow to the ribs.

 

“It was nothing important,” Harry said. “I’d have to explain why it happened and it’s a story too long to tell it now. And I’m almost sure that it’s going to appear in the books, so it doesn’t really matter.”

 

“Harry,” Fred whined.

 

“Don’t leave us hanging,” George said pleadingly. That smelt like an outburst of Harry’s accidental magic and it was usually the best one. They got so many ideas from that.

 

Harry grinned. “If it doesn’t appear, I’ll tell you. I promise.”

 

**“Don’t be … hates the boy.”**

 

“See? Mutual relationship of hatred,” Harry pointed out.

 

Molly sighed sadly and leant against her husband. “I don’t understand it, Arthur. How can they hate him so much?”

 

Arthur wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I don’t know, dear. I really don’t understand it.”

 

How could those people hate so much the same boy that their whole family would adopt in a heartbeat?

 

**The Dursleys … like a slug.**

 

Ron closed his eyes and clenched his fists so tightly that he was sure to leave marks on the palms of his hands. He felt a nudge from his best friend, but he ignored it. However, Harry didn’t let up and kept poking him.

 

“What, Harry?” He snapped finally, turning to look at him.

 

“I’m supposed to be the broody one with mood swings, remember? You’re the one who supposedly has the emotional capability of a rock,” Harry told him. His gaze softened when he saw the real angst in his friend’s eyes. “What’s going on, Ron?”

 

The redhead sighed and deflated in the couch. “I just don’t like your relatives.”

 

“Okay,” Harry snorted. “Now there’s two of us.”

 

“Three of us,” Hermione corrected, sending Ron a concerned look.

 

“Three of us,” Harry nodded, correcting himself. “But we already knew that. You already hated them.”

 

“But it’s one thing to know that they don’t treat you right and that they’re… despicable,” she said, pursing her lips. “And it’s another thing to _know_ it.”

 

Harry frowned in confusion. “You already _knew_ it, as you say. You just didn’t know all the details.”

 

“But we hadn’t seen it and…”

 

“Technically, you’re not seeing it now either…” Harry interrupted, earning himself exasperated looks.

 

“Harry, you know what we mean,” Hermione said.

 

“They’re… so much worse than I imagined, and I already thought they were horrible,” Ron said, half disgusted and half afraid. “I wanna…” He trailed off, raising his hands in front of him half curled and squeezing like he was imagining the Dursleys neck between his fingers.

 

Harry sighed. “You can’t strangle them, Ron. Well, maybe Aunt Petunia, but no Uncle Vernon or Dudley.”

 

His two best friends stared at him like he had gone crazy.

 

“Why in Merlin’s beard can’t we strangle your uncle and cousin? You can’t tell me you’re fond of them deep down, right?” Ron asked, alarmed.

 

Harry snorted. “I haven’t taken enough bludgers to the head for that,” he reassured them. “But do you really think that you can wrap your hands around my cousin’s neck? Never mind my uncle. That’s a lost cause.”

 

Ron and Hermione were staring at him like they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

 

“You’re mental,” Ron chuckled.

 

“For once, Ron’s completely right,” Hermione nodded in agreement, but her lips were twitching upwards.

 

“Exac- Hey! What do you mean for once?!”

 

**“What … go on Dudley’s computer).**

 

“Don’t know why I bothered,” Harry sighed, leaning back. “I knew there was no way they would leave me alone in the house.”

 

“Good,” Mrs. Weasley nodded firmly. “You can’t leave a child that young at home on his own. What if something happened?”

 

Harry decided not to comment that the Dursleys would have probably been happy if something happened to him. He was sure that it would have made their day if they arrived home one day and he was gone from their lives forever.

 

**Aunt … in ruins?” she snarled.**

 

Molly was turning red with anger as her temper rose. “That’s why they didn’t want to leave Harry alone at home? They were worried about their little house?” She spat.

 

Arthur wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Calm down, Molly.”

 

“It’s not fair, Arthur,” she said, leaning back against him as sadness began to substitute her anger. “They hate him.”

 

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry called, smiling softly at her. “It doesn’t matter. Really. I hate them too.”

 

She returned the smile sadly, but she couldn’t disagree more. It mattered. It mattered a lot to her and to her husband and to the rest of her family.

 

**“I won’t … they weren’t listening.**

 

“Would you?” Seamus asked, looking at his roommate curiously.

 

“What? Blow up the house?” Harry asked surprised. Seamus nodded. “Why would I do that?” He asked, torn between shock and amusement.

 

Seamus shrugged, a vaguely disappointed expression on his face. “Blowing up things that you hate always gives you the best feeling. And I would hate that house if I were you.”

 

Dean eyed his best friend suspiciously. “Just how many things have you blown up on purpose and let everyone think that it was an accident?”

 

Seamus’ features schooled themselves into the vivid picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’d never do something like that.”

 

Dean’s eyes narrowed even more. “If one of my posters blow up, I’m gonna take it out on you, Finnigan.”

 

“Such little faith in me,” the boy rolled his eyes. “In case you don’t remember, it’s Ron the one who usually tries to mess with your posters.”

 

“I don’t mess with his posters,” the redhead scoffed. “I just try to make them a little livelier.”

 

Dean almost had steam coming out of his ears. “If my posters are damaged in any way, I’m gonna make _both_ of you pay for it.”

 

“Hey! What about Harry and Neville?” Seamus asked indignant.

 

“They’ve never messed with my posters.”

 

“I haven’t even come close to them,” Neville mumbled. He wasn’t stupid.

 

“See?” Dean said triumphantly. “That’s a good friend. Maybe Neville will be my new best friend from now on.”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Seamus rolled his eyes.

 

**“I … him in the car...”**

 

“Please, tell me she’s joking,” Hermione cut in, her voice deadly in a way that hadn’t been yet.

 

“You know they have no sense of humour, Hermione,” Harry said slowly, studying her carefully. “Why do you ask?”

 

She whirled around towards him, her eyes blazing with fury and a hint of panic. “Children die when they’re left in the car locked in, Harry. They die of heat stroke after a few hours.”

 

“They what?!” Many shouted.

 

“They die in the car? Why?” Ron asked, paling rapidly even as his ears turned red with anger.

 

“The heat, Ron. The car becomes like an oven and literally cooks them alive,” Hermione explained curtly, trembling with rage. This was the first time she heard that not only they had made Harry miserable, but they had endangered his life. She was going to make them pay.

 

“Remember what happened on the way to Hogwarts on our second year?” Harry asked. “Imagine that without air conditioner at all or water but in June instead of September.”

 

The redhead blanched before his eyes hardened. “I’m gonna kill them,” he declared. He said it so naturally, so calmly, that in that instant nobody doubted it.

 

“Ron…” Harry sighed.

 

“Don’t, Harry. Don’t,” his best friend cut him off. “Not on this. I’m not joking. They wouldn’t have cared if you died. There’s nothing that can excuse that.”

 

Everyone agreed with Ron, even those who weren’t totally sure about what a car was. Letting a child die of heat stroke was something serious. They couldn’t believe that these people would treat _Harry Potter_ like this while the whole wizarding world idolised him. How close had they been to losing their saviour at the hands of his relatives?

 

“Ron, my magic would’ve acted up and would’ve probably opened the car,” Harry tried to sooth him. He only made it worse.

 

“Your magic shouldn’t have to act to save your life, Harry,” Remus said through gritted teeth.

 

“And probably doesn’t cut it this time,” Sirius added, trying not to think that he could have lost his godson while he had been thinking that he was safe and happy. Why hadn’t he tried to escape Azkaban before? Why hadn’t he taken Harry with him when he had run away with Buckbeak? It would have been better than living with those animals.

 

**“That car’s … in it alone...”**

 

“That’s their reason for not leaving you in the car?” Bill spat in disgust. His hatred and repulsion towards these people only grew with each revelation.

 

“They care about the car more than they care about you,” Tonks said uncomprehendingly. How could anyone care more about an object than a person’s life, especially a kid?

 

“They cared more about the house than about him, too, didn’t they?” Molly said, her hands trembling as she tried to keep tears at bay. She wanted to scream and rage and cry and curse the Dursleys and sweep Harry into a hug and never let him go, promising him that he was safe now.

 

**Dudley began … anything he wanted.**

 

“Really? Fake tears to go along with the tantrum?” Katie scrunched up her nose.

 

“How can she believe it? Can’t she see right through the act?” Molly asked desperate. She couldn’t understand the Dursleys. “She brought him up. She should know in an instant when he’s hiding something.”

 

“Mum,” Bill said softly. “Not all mums in the world are like you.”

 

“I reckon we were lucky, weren’t we?” Percy chipped in, hating to see his mother upset. She was the person he hated the most to see upset about something.

 

Molly gave her a watery smile, melting in an instant when all her children nodded and murmured their agreements. Even Harry and Hermione were smiling in agreement. Merlin, she loved them, she loved the nine of them.

 

**“Dinky Duddydums, … arms around him.**

 

“Spoil his special day?” Angelina bristled. “You’ve barely even opened your mouth and you’ve made breakfast for him!”

 

“His standards are high,” Harry said dryly.

 

“High? High how?” She demanded exasperated. “What would you have to do so he would be happy on his birthday? Kiss the ground he walks on?”

 

Harry laughed aloud. “You really think that would work?”

 

Angelina softened when she heard him laugh. “Don’t know really. Don’t wanna know to be honest.”

 

“Yeah, me neither. I’m not gonna try that,” Harry chuckled. “I’d sooner try to freeze the ground so he would slip and fall on his fat a- butt,” he corrected himself just in time, sending a quick glance at Mrs. Weasley. He had seen her scold their children for their language and he had no wish to have that anger directed his way.

 

Fred snorted. “That I’d pay to see. Especially because he probably wouldn’t be able to stand up again.”

 

George’s face brightened. “Freddie, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He asked.

 

Fred’s face mirrored his twin’s the next instant. “Oh, Georgie, I love how you think. It’d be an instant success, don’t you think?”

 

“Fred. George,” their mother began, beginning to give them the stinking eye. “You wouldn’t…”

 

“Dream of doing something that would anger you, mum,” George finished for her.

 

“We’re just fantasising,” Fred said innocently.

 

Molly didn’t seem to believe it, but she couldn’t be bothered to interrogate them right then. She could do it later.

 

**“I . . . don’t . . . … his mother’s arms.**

 

“What a brat,” Katie huffed, rolling her eyes.

 

“I think not even Malfoy would do that,” Ron scoffed.

 

Hermione tilted her head pensively. “What Malfoy does is not that different, threatening everyone with his father like that’s gonna fix everything. Neither of them is learning how to solve their own problems.”

 

Harry smiled amused. “They are a bit alike, aren’t they? Both just as spoiled and arrogant, bullying everyone around them.”

 

“And both of them hating your guts,” Ron grinned.

 

“Think they could start a club for Harry-Potter-haters?” Harry joked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Although, I believe they would argue too much about who would be in charge.”

 

“And they would hate each other,” Hermione added amused.

 

“That too,” Harry snickered. “Perhaps they would manage to get over it because of their mutual hatred towards me, though.”

 

“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” Colin huffed under his breath, rolling his eyes. Why would anyone want to create a club for Harry-Potter-haters? They should just try to make them come around.

 

**Just then, … Dudley hit them.**

 

“Don’t tell me. You were one of those whose arms he held back,” Charlie said sarcastically.

 

Harry smirked sharply, which surprised just about everyone. “He did, but he usually ended up regretting it. I kick and I have a mean aim.”

 

They all snorted and chuckled in amusement. It was good to know that Harry hadn’t taken the bullying and the beatings quietly and hadn’t gone down without a fight. But what were they expecting? The boy didn’t seem to know what lying low and admit defeat were.

 

**Dudley stopped … cry at once.**

 

“Oh, don’t tell me he can’t cry in front of his friends,” Bill mocked. “Afraid about what his best friend would think of him?”

 

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Tonks snorted in agreement.

 

**Half an hour … his life.**

 

“What exactly is a zoo?” Parvati asked curious.

 

“It’s a place where different animals are kept so people can go see them,” Hermione explained quickly.

 

“They keep the animals locke’?” Hagrid asked in horror.

 

“Yes, but…” Hermione began, trying to stop the impending outburst. She didn’t talk fast enough.

 

“They can’t do tha’!” The gamekeeper bellowed, standing up like he intended to march right to the nearest zoo and free all the animals.

 

“Hagrid!” Hermione called, but Hagrid was too angry to listen to her and kept walking towards the door. She looked at her best friend. “Harry!” She pleaded. Hagrid always, always listened to Harry, never ignoring what he wanted to say.

 

The boy was already jumping to his feet to intercept the gamekeeper. “Hagrid,” he said seriously, standing firmly between him and the door with his arms crossed and an unamused expression on his face.

 

“Harry, yeh don’t understan’…” Hagrid fretted.

 

“Listen to Hermione, Hagrid,” Harry said firmly.

 

“Hagrid, that animals are kept there doesn’t mean that they aren’t well looked after,” Hermione said, walking over to stand next to Harry. “There are regulations to ensure that animals aren’t mistreated.”

 

She didn’t add that there were places who didn’t abide by those regulations. There would be no stopping Hagrid if she did.

 

“Yeh sure?” Hagrid asked concerned.

 

“Positive,” she nodded confidently. Then she had an idea. “We can take you to one for a visit this summer if you want.”

 

Hagrid brightened. “Yeh would?” He asked hopefully.

 

“We can all go,” Harry smiled, looking back at the Weasleys.

 

“And would we have to use muggle money again?” Arthur perked up, a huge grin spreading across his face. “What about the ticket machines? Would we see those? I’ve heard they work with eclecticity.”

 

Harry stifled a chuckle as they all went back to their seats. “I suppose, Mr. Weasley.”

 

“Wonderful!” The man said, his face lightening up like a child’s on Christmas.

 

“Settle down, dear. That won’t happen until this summer,” Molly said with a fond smile. She may not understand her husband’s obsession with muggle things, but it was something almost endearing to watch.

 

**His aunt … taken Harry aside.**

 

All signs of levity vanished immediately. Nobody wanted that man anywhere near Harry.

 

“If he harms a single hair on your head…” Sirius growled, clenching his fists tightly.

 

“Then you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it now,” Harry interrupted him, tired of all the pointless threats. “We can’t get out of here and this happened more than three years ago. It doesn’t matter now.”

 

The animagus gritted his teeth, wholeheartedly disagreeing with that assessment. It didn’t matter if it had happened three years before or twenty. He was going to break that man’s hand if he laid it on his godson and he was going to follow with every other bone in his body.

 

**“I’m warning … now until Christmas.”**

 

“Six months?” Hermione calculated quickly, bristling in indignation. “He threatened to lock you up in your… in that cupboard for six months.”

 

“He didn’t follow it through, Hermione,” Harry said soothingly.

 

“I’d hope so or he would’ve just been digging his grave even deeper,” she scowled.

 

**“I’m not … make them happen.**

 

“Accidental magic,” Percy realised, his eyes going wide.

 

“Oh, Merlin, I don’t even want to imagine how they would react to that,” Tonks said, covering her eyes with a hand.

 

“Petunia had to know perfectly well what was happening,” Remus scowled. “She grew up with Lily so she had to have seen it before.”

 

“They didn’t care about that,” Harry shrugged uncomfortably. He didn’t how to react to his ex-professor’s anger on his behalf. He didn’t need Professor Lupin’s anger.

 

“But they can’t blame you for your accidental magic!” Ginny protested. Really, what was wrong with these people? “They had to know it wasn’t your fault!”

 

“More like they knew exactly who the culprit was,” Harry corrected her.

 

“But that’s not fair!” She exclaimed. “It’s not something you can control!”

 

“Life isn’t fair,” Harry repeated his own words from the night before. “And life with the Dursleys even less.”

 

**Once, … hide that horrible scar.”**

 

“They were that tired of that mop on top of your head that you call hair?” Ron tried to joke, but his voice sounded too tense.

 

“They blamed you for the Potter hair?” Sirius asked incensed. “How could they? I don’t know of anyone who’s been able to tame it!”

 

“Now that I think about it,” Molly said, deciding to focus on something she could fix. “Harry, dear, you could use a haircut.”

 

Bill almost burst out laughing. He wanted to cheer he was so happy that now his mother had someone else to bother about getting a proper haircut. Maybe then she would lay off him for a while. As much as he sympathized with what awaited Harry, he was going to sit back and enjoy the show.

 

Harry gulped and unconsciously leant away from the woman. “Mrs. Weasley, I appreciate it, really, but I don’t wanna bother…” He tried. He should have known that wouldn’t work.

 

“Oh, nonsense, dear. It’s no bother at all,” she said dismissively.

 

“But, Mrs. Weasley, you don’t understand,” he tried again. “When’s the last time you think I got a haircut?”

 

The redheaded woman frowned in confusion. “I don’t know, Harry. This summer, I suppose. What does that have to do with…?”

 

“Mrs. Weasley, I haven’t got a haircut since I was seven, when that incident we’ve just read about happened,” he interrupted her delicately, trying not to be rude.

 

“Seven?” Bill repeated, biting his cheek to stifle his guffaws of laughter. His mother was going to go nuts. There was no way that Harry was going to be able to escape now.

 

And he was right. Molly pursed her lips and frowned, eyeing the mop of black hair like it was her newest adversary.

 

“That won’t do at all,” she tutted.

 

“But, Mrs. Weasley, it doesn’t matter,” Harry pleaded, looking around for help and finding just amused faces. Traitors. “It doesn’t change. It just stays like this forever and…”

 

“But it could look so much better, Harry,” Molly cut him off. “You’d look much more handsome with your hair just a bit shorter. And maybe I can find a way to make it stop pointing in every direction possible… Mmm…”

 

Harry could only watch in horror as Mrs. Weasley continued to murmur to herself and she eyed his hair thoughtfully.

 

Ron snorted and patted his shoulder. “You’ve done it now, mate. She won’t stop until she manages to comb your hair,” he snickered.

 

“But she won’t be able to do it,” Harry said horrified.

 

“That won’t stop her from trying.”

 

**Dudley had laughed … taped glasses.**

 

Many hid a wince. The baggy clothes and the taped glasses. According to Harry himself, those were the first things that he had tried to get rid off when he had arrived to Hogwarts. It must have really bothered him to have so many laughing at him for that.

 

Lavander and Parvati exchanged a glance. They wished they were a bit closer to Harry. This would have given them the perfect excuse to go on a huge shopping trip to find him clothes that fitted him. Unfortunately, they weren’t that close with him. Maybe they had to fix that.

 

**Next morning, … sheared it off.**

 

“Hah!” Sirius cheered triumphantly. “Told you. Potter hair. It wouldn’t be that easy to tame it.”

 

Remus bit his lip worried. He was sure that the Dursleys wouldn’t like it as much as Sirius and Harry would take the blame for it.

 

“It’s like even your hair’s stubborn,” Ron snickered.

 

Molly frowned heavily when she heard what had happened with Harry’s hair. “That won’t help at all,” she muttered to herself. She may even have to use potions to control Harry’s hair and morph it into something vaguely combed.

 

Bill elbowed his brother in the ribs and leant closer. “Mum looks about to have a fit hearing that,” he whispered.

 

Charlie looked at his mother and stifled his laughter. “Poor Harry. Think we should rescue him when she tries to corner him?”

 

Bill seemed to think about it for a moment before grinning mischievously. “I wanna see what she tries first.”

 

“You’re just happy she has someone else to bother about getting a haircut,” Charlie said knowingly.

 

“That too,” Bill admitted, grinning unabashedly. “But I wanna see how Harry’s hair resists all of mum’s efforts. We can rescue him after she’s tried for a bit.”

 

**He had … back so quickly.**

 

Any mirth present vanished.

 

“A week in the cupboard?” Remus growled through greeted teeth.

 

“He didn’t do anything!” Tonks shouted, her hair turning a fiery red. “It was accidental magic and it didn’t hurt anyone!”

 

“I’m gonna kill them,” Sirius said, or more like promised. Nobody locked his godson in a cupboard for a week and lived to repeat the experience.

 

“I wasn’t locked up the entire day,” Harry tried to calm everyone down. “I was allowed to get out to go to the bathroom twice a day.”

 

As soon as these words slipped past his lips, he wanted to take them back. It had sounded much better in his head. Looking around, he could see that it had indeed not helped at all. If anything, it had only made it worse as everyone’s faces darkened.

 

**Another time, … Harry wasn’t punished.**

 

“Finally,” Dean said, glaring at the book.

 

“I don’t get it,” Alicia said frustrated. “They blame you for the hair, but not for this?”

 

“Would you have preferred that they blamed him?” Angelina asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“No!” Alicia exclaimed, glaring at her. “I just don’t understand what kind of logic they’re following. Why the hair and not the jumper?”

 

“As long as they could give those incidents a somewhat logical explanation, it was okay,” Harry shrugged. “They’d rather pretend that magic doesn’t exist than to punish me.”

 

“Logical explanation?” Percy repeated sceptically. The jumper shrinking in the wash wasn’t logical at all.

 

“I said _somewhat_ logical,” Harry pointed out.

 

**On the … the school kitchens.**

 

“What?” Ron laughed. “You climbed a roof? Why would you do that?”

 

“You could’ve got hurt, Harry,” Hermione chided with a frown. “What if you had fallen down?”

 

“Aren’t you more worried about the fact that I could’ve been expelled?” Harry teased her gently.

 

Ron roared with laughter, much to the confusion of everyone but his two best friends. Hermione blushed and slapped Harry on the back of his head.

 

“Sorry, Hermione. It was a chance too good to let it go,” he apologised, smiling sheepishly.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. “You’re impossible.”

 

“What are we missing here?” Charlie asked curiously. He could see that no one but those three understood the obvious inside joke.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Ron said dismissively, a massive grin on his face.

 

“And to answer your questions,” Harry said, looking at his best friends. “I didn’t climb to the roof. I actually have no idea how I got there.”

 

**Dudley’s gang … on the chimney.**

 

There weren’t laughs this time. They were too busy gaping at the uncomfortable boy squirming under all the gazes.

 

“Y-You apparated?” Ron broke the silence, eyes so wide that they seemed to pop out of their sockets.

 

“No clue,” Harry shrugged again. “I have no idea what apparition feels like, remember?”

 

“But, but… apparition is very complicated,” Percy spluttered in shock. “No child should be able to accomplish it.

 

“I don’t know if I apparated,” Harry repeated, gritting his teeth. “Maybe I flew or something.”

 

Snape suddenly had a huge flashback about a small girl with fiery red hair jumping from the swing and floating to land several feet away delicately. He had to close his eyes to try to avoid the images. He refused to see Potter in anyway similar to Lily. As far as he was concerned, the boy had only got his mother’s eyes and nothing else. That he hadn’t had the grand childhood Snape had pictured him having didn’t mean that the fame hadn’t got to his head since he had arrived to the wizarding world and he wasn’t as arrogant as his father used to be in Hogwarts.

 

“Flying is still pretty impressive, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, sending her student a proud smile.

 

Harry beamed at her, his cheeks colouring at the praise. It wasn’t often that one received such a compliment from the strict Professor McGonagall.

 

“I wanna fly too,” Ron said enviously.

 

Harry snorted and gave him a shove. “Then get your broomstick. Even if I knew how to do it again, I wouldn’t carry your heavy arse around.”

 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Some best friend you’ve turned out to be,” he grumbled good-naturedly, his lips twitching upwards.

 

**The Dursleys … climbing school buildings.**

 

“Oh, dragon’s crap,” Charlie swore. “They won’t like that.”

 

“I’d bet,” Tonks winced.

 

In all the shock of Harry’s apparition/flying thing, they hadn’t thought about the Dursley’s reaction. If it had been bad when Harry’s hair had grown back and nobody but them had known about it, it was was bound to be horrible now that there were witnesses.

 

**But all … of his cupboard)**

 

“Again?” Sirius growled.

 

“Was it a week once more this time?” Remus asked, trying and failing to keep a level head.

 

“More or less,” Harry answered, racking a hand through his hair and refusing to look at anyone. If it had been much more more than less —like, about two weeks more than that—, nobody had to know.

 

“Don’t they know the kind of repercussions locking a child in such a small place can have on him?!” Madam Pomfrey shrieked, her control finally snapping.

 

She had tried, she had tried really hard not to say anything. Harry had spent enough time under her care to know that he would really hate to have attention drawn towards him in front of the whole school, but she had had enough.

 

“I’m fine, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said soothingly, with a hint of fear in his voice. If he didn’t calm her down, she was going to drag him to the infirmary in a Body-Bind curse if she had to.

 

The witch pursed her lips unhappily. She was itching to check him for adverse effects that kind of environment growing up could have had on him, but she knew that he would put up a fight if she tried then.

 

“What if you hadn’t been fine, Harry?” Tonks asked, harsher than she had meant to. “What if there was an emergency?”

 

“Exactly,” Remus growled. “What if there had been a fire or something? What we’re hearing makes me doubt if they would’ve remembered that you were there.”

 

There were several sharp intakes of breath as people imagined this scenario. Harry would have been burnt alive (which nobody wanted to even consider) or he would have succumbed to the smoke.

 

“The door opened several times on its own. Sometimes I just had to lay a hand on it and it would open instantly,” Harry tried to reassure them. “I wouldn’t have got stuck in there. Besides, nothing like that ever happened.”

 

Every excuse Harry made to try to make it look less bad only seemed to have the opposite effect. He should be furious and upset and have a total hatred towards his relatives. Why did he seem to only fit one of these things?

 

**was jump … in mid-jump.**

 

“You may be a scrawny midget,” George said, trying to ignore the anger shimmering around them.

 

“But you’re not that light, Harrikins,” Fred finished, as determined as his twin not to make this more difficult for Harry.

 

“I didn’t know magic existed,” Harry defended himself.

 

“You could’ve said that an invisible man had given you a push,” Fred suggested, grinning amused.

 

“Muggles can’t turn themselves invisible,” Harry snickered. “So, it would count as magic.”

 

“They can’t?” George asked, a bit perplexed. “How far behind are they that they haven’t been able to find a way to turn invisible without magic?”

 

“You say it like it’s easy to turn yourself invisible _with_ magic,” Hermione scoffed.

 

“To be fair, it _is_ easy for the three of us,” Harry whispered so only Ron and Hermione heard him.

 

“Shut up, Harry. You know what I mean. Your cloak doesn’t count.”

 

**But today, … to go wrong.**

 

“That,” Seamus said, pointing at the book. “That’s a jinx if I ever saw one. Who wanna bet that something goes wrong?”

 

“No one’s gonna take that bet, Seamus,” Dean scoffed, grabbing his still raised arm to pull it down. “This is Harry we’re talking about. Trelawney wouldn’t even have to pretend to see some catastrophe in his future for it to be true.”

 

“It wasn’t a catastrophe,” Harry mumbled defensively.

 

“So, something did happen,” Dean grinned.

 

**It was … his favourite subjects.**

 

“Wait, that means he doesn’t like Harry?” George asked in mock-confusion.

 

“I thought you were his favourite nephew,” Fred huffed. “He’s led us wrong the whole time.”

 

“He is his favourite nephew,” a voice said, making almost everyone turn towards her.

 

“Luna?” Harry asked perplexed. He had to have heard her wrong. Or maybe she had been asleep the whole time they had been reading.

 

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled dreamily.

 

“Hi,” he replied absentmindedly. “You say _I’m_ Uncle Vernon’s favourite nephew?”

 

Luna nodded, humming under her breath. “Of course,” she said softly. “You’re his only nephew.”

 

Harry released a shaky breath. “I think that he would be much happier with no nephew at all, Luna,” he said. “You can’t have a favourite anything if you don’t like either of the options.”

 

“Then that could mean that you’re both his favourite nephew and the one he dislikes the most, don’t you think?” She mused intrigued.

 

Harry blinked and tried to find the words to answer. “I suppose…”

 

**This morning, … “It was flying.”**

 

Ron groaned and punched Harry’s shoulder as hard as he could.

 

“Ouch! Hey!” Harry glared at him as he rubbed the sore spot. “What was that for?”

 

“Do you have a death wish or something?” Ron demanded, his ears red. “I know that you don’t think before heading into danger, but that was just asking for trouble, Harry!”

 

“And here I thought we’d never see little Ronnie channelling mum,” Charlie mumbled so only Bill and Tonks heard him. The three of them snickered under their breath.

 

“I know. I wasn’t thinking, okay?” He defended himself, inching away from Ron. He didn’t expect to receive a slap on the back of his head from his other best friend. He was beginning to feel abused. “Hermione!”

 

“Just checking it wasn’t empty, Harry Potter,” she said, shutting him up with a glare. “You aren’t using it much.”

 

“I was a kid! And I was going to the zoo for the first time! I was excited!” Harry argued, not knowing where to go to avoid being hit again. Maybe he should stand up and step away from the couch.

 

“Just… don’t do that, Harry,” Hermione sighed.

 

“I know,” he said relaxing. “You know I don’t talk to my relatives if I can help it.”

 

“Then keep helping it,” Ron ordered. “You have any idea how much of a hassle it’d be to avenge you if they killed you for having said something they didn’t like?”

 

“I feel so loved right now, Ron,” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

 

**Uncle Vernon … “MOTORCYCLES DON’T FLY!”**

 

“Mine did,” Sirius said proudly. “And it was wonderful.”

 

Remus rolled his eyes. “Sure it was, Padfoot,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

 

Sirius glared at him and nearly shoved him off the couch they were sharing. “Don’t patronise me, Moony. It was wonderful and you know it.”

 

Nobody noticed, but the twins almost had a heart attack right there and then. Had they heard right? Had they called each other Padfoot and Moony? Could it be a coincidence?

 

“Gred, you don’t think…” George said quietly, so quietly that there was no chance of anyone hearing them.

 

“That it could be _them_ , Feorge?” Fred finished faintly.

 

“A teacher?” George said, trying to picture one of those pranksters they idolized as a serious professor, even one that hadn’t been half bad like Professor Lupin.

 

“And a supposed maybe-innocent psycho killer that wanted to kill Harry last year?” Fred added. It was impossible to put those two images together.

 

They turned at the same time to look at Harry, Ron and Hermione, but the three friends were engrossed in the reading. They were going to have to ask them since they were ones that seemed to know the most about Black. If those three, especially Harry since he had been the one they had given the map to, had known the identities of the Marauders and they hadn’t told them… they better sleep with an eye open for a while now.

 

**Dudley … might get dangerous ideas.**

 

“They think you need help with those?” Ron snorted. “Mental. The whole lot of them.”

 

“My ideas aren’t dangerous,” Harry argued. “The situations I find myself into are dangerous. But I’m not there because of my ideas.”

 

Ron and Hermione stared at him incredulously.

 

“You’re joking, right?” Ron blurted out. Harry was pulling their leg, wasn’t he? … No. He looked as serious as ever.

 

“Harry, I don’t think you’ve gone a whole month since we met when you didn’t have a dangerous idea,” Hermione said softly but firmly.

 

“Not true!”

 

“Too true,” they replied at the same time.

 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Prove it. Examples needed.”

 

“Really? What about last year…?” Ron began.

 

“Ron!” Hermione cut him off.

 

“What?” He asked alarmed.

 

“Not here!” She hissed, gesturing around them, where dozens of faces filled with eager curiosity were staring at them.

 

“Oh,” the redhead said sheepishly.

 

“Don’t shut up because of us,” Dean said, waving his hand to indicate them to keep talking.

 

“We wanna know what idea you’re talking about,” Seamus nodded. He could think up about three or four right then and there, but he was sure that Ron and Hermione knew several more.

 

“No,” Harry shook his head, his jaw set stubbornly. “You’ll find out if it appears in the books.”

 

“And then I can point out every dangerous idea you’ve ever had,” Ron said happily. “They’ll all agree with me.”

 

“Shut up, Ron.”

 

**It was … lemon ice pop.**

 

“Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me at all,” Katie sighed a bit sadly. She huffed in surprise when a cushion hit her in the face. “Hey!” She protested, looking around for the culprit. She found him quickly when she saw Harry glaring at her with his arms crossed. “You threw a cushion at my face?” She asked indignant.

 

“Be happy for me! I got an ice cream!” He exclaimed. “No moping just because something went right.”

 

Katie gaped at him and snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“ _I’m_ ridiculous?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Who’s sighing all dramatically because I got an ice cream?”

 

“I’m not sighing dramatically! And it’s not because of that!” She exclaimed, her cheeks turning pink. “You just shouldn’t have been so happy just because you got an ice cream.”

 

“You wanted me to sad about it?”

 

“No!”

 

“Oh, so then you would prefer if I were ungrateful?” Harry teased her.

 

Katie narrowed her eyes and threw the cushion back as hard as he could. “Shut up, Potter. Don’t twist my words.”

 

Harry caught the pillow easily and grinned amused at her.

 

**It wasn’t … it wasn’t blond.**

 

Bill snorted. “I’m having a hard time picturing this kid in my head. I’m trying to blend a pig and a gorilla and put a blond wig on it and the result is a bit disturbing.”

 

Charlie grimaced and sent his brother an odd look. “You’re a weird one, you know that?” He said with another grimace. Now he was the one who couldn’t stop trying to imagine a hybrid between a pig and a gorilla.

 

“If you wanted to meet the lovely Dudley Dursley, you should’ve come with to pick up Harry this summer,” George smirked.

 

“They can always come when we pay them another visit, brother mine,” Fred said.

 

“You know, Padfoot,” Remus said quietly so only his friend heard him. “These comments and little remarks Harry makes in his head. You know who they remind me of?”

 

Sirius frowned in confusion. “James?” He guessed. But no, that wasn’t right. James used more jokes and pranks and big gestures, not so much witty replies and sarcasm and all that.

 

Remus shook his head with a fond smile. “That’s all Lily and you know it,” he said. He snorted in amusement and looked at Harry. “I’m not sure if you’ve talked with him long enough to notice, but he’s much more similar to Lily even though he’s the spitting image of James.”

 

Sirius frowned and looked at his godson. Was he really so similar to Lily? He hadn’t noticed. He knew that he was as loyal to his friends as James had been and he got into just as much trouble, if not more. He was an amazing flyer and quidditch player, too. All that screamed James to him. It was true, though, that Remus had spent much more time with Harry than him (and he had to ignore the pang of jealousy that stung him at that thought), so maybe the werewolf knew something that he didn’t.

 

**Harry had … of hitting him.**

 

“They’d do that in the middle of the zoo?” Lavander asked appalled.

 

“I don’t think they’d have a problem with that,” Hermione scoffed, glaring at the book. “And it’s not like there aren’t places and corners to hide in a zoo.”

 

Harry nudged her, trying to get her to lighten up. “You think I’d let them drag me there?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “I know I don’t have your brain, Hermione, but I think even I can understand that not everybody would stand aside when they see two boys beating up another one half their size. I made sure I stuck to places where there were always people.”

 

Hermione blushed and elbowed him half-heartedly. “I didn’t say you didn’t know that. I meant that maybe your cousin and his friend weren’t able to figure that out and would’ve beat you up anyway.”

 

“Can we stop talking about people beating up Harry?” Sirius cut in, gritting his teeth.

 

Harry smiled bitterly. “Why? It’s not like that’ll erase what happened. And you were the one who wanted to know. I’m the one who warned you you wouldn’t like it.”

 

Maybe he was a bit harsh, but he was getting a little exasperated. They wanted to know, but just to know how much to beat up the Dursleys, not to help him. They demanded to know every detail, but then they didn’t want it mentioned ever again, like it had just been to satisfy their morbid curiosity and they wanted to pretend it had never happened. Well, too bad. He was not a soap opera. They had wanted to know and they had got their wish. Now they had to deal with the consequences and, since they all knew about it now, he had no qualms about making comments or jokes about it whenever he felt like it. If it made them uncomfortable, they shouldn’t have asked.

 

Sirius was taken aback by this. How could his godson treat this matter so lightly? This was serious. Of course, Sirius wanted to talk about it and he was going to get every detail from the kid once they finished reading for the day. He needed… He needed to know how bad it had been to make amends and to know how much he was going to torture the Dursleys. But all that would happen later, when they were in private, not with a couple of hundred of witnesses.

 

**They ate … finish the first.**

 

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips and took a deep breath to try to calm down. “Should I even bother to ask if they would’ve bought you some lunch otherwise?” She hissed.

 

“Probably not,” Harry said lightly.

 

“Yeah, I guessed that much,” the redheaded woman nodded, her expression darkening even more.

 

**Harry felt, … good to last.**

 

“Told you he had jinxed it,” Seamus said with a half-hearted smile.

 

“Nobody argued with you,” Dean huffed.

 

“I know. Too bad they didn’t. I would’ve won some money,” Seamus said sadly.

 

**After lunch … was fast asleep.**

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ron interrupted, whirling around to stare at Harry with wide eyes. “Is this…? Was this when you…?”

 

Harry blinked in confusion and looked at Hermione for help. A moment later, her face lit up in comprehension like it did in class when she knew the answer to a particularly difficult question.

 

“You told us about it in second year, Harry,” she said eagerly, trying not to give too much away. She was acutely aware of the dozens of ears listening to their conversation.

 

“Oh,” he understood before laughing. “Yeah. This is it.”

 

Ron laughed delighted and leant forward eagerly. “Brilliant! I’ve always known you weren’t giving it the credit it deserves when you told us.”

 

“Told you what?” Sirius asked confused and a bit frustrated.

 

“You’ll see,” Harry grinned, looking at his best friend amused. “I did give it the credit it deserves, Ron.”

 

“I agree with Ron, Harry,” Hermione huffed. “You never know how to tell your own stories.”

 

“What stories?” Sirius asked again, more frustrated.

 

“You’ll see,” the three of them answered at the same time.

 

The animagus wanted to strangle them or growl in frustration. He settled for the latter. Now he understood why the Weasley girl —he thought she was called Ginny— had been so frustrated the night before when she talked about how those three never let anyone in. She was right.

 

“Sirius,” Remus said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You have no reason to get angry.”

 

“Don’t I?” He replied in the same volume.

 

“No, you don’t,” the werewolf said firmly, squeezing his shoulder in warning. “We were the same, remember? We never told anyone our plans or our secrets.”

 

Sirius blanched. “But it’s not the same…”

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“We… We’re Harry’s family,” Sirius argued, taking care not to raise his voice. “We were there when he was born. He…”

 

“Is a teenager with trust issues who loves his best friends more than anyone else in the world. I’m sure if you asked him, he would tell that he considers them his family,” Remus cut in, looking at him with pained understanding. “We were just the same, Sirius. We trusted James more than anyone else in the world.”

 

It hurt to be unable to say that they had trusted each other, all the Marauders, more than anyone. It would be a lie. There was a reason for why Sirius had doubted whether or not Remus could have been working for the other side or for why Remus hadn’t believed in Sirius’ innocence when he was accused. They weren’t holding it against each other since they had both made mistakes and they had been talking during the summer to reconnect and make amends, but, deep down, they doubted they would ever be able to go back to how they had been.

 

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to the turmoil between the two Marauders, Harry kept talking with Ron and Hermione.

 

“Do you think someone from the Ministry…?” He trailed off in a whisper, looking at the aurors carefully. In a way, he was glad that Crouch (the imperiused one) wasn’t here. That man had already accused him once of conjuring the Dark Mark and he had no intention of finding out what he would do with these revelations if he didn’t know them yet.

 

Ron’s face closed off. “Not a chance, mate,” he sneered in a way that would have mortified him in any other situation because of how similar it was to Snape.

 

Hermione’s eyes were sharp. “It’s not something bad. They can’t do anything even if they don’t like it. And you know how everyone else here at Hogwarts got over it. This will be the same.”

 

“It took them more than six months to get over it, Hermione,” Harry reminded her gently.

 

Hermione pursed her lips. “I really don’t think that anyone will care, Harry. But if they do,” she continued before he could interrupt her. “They can’t do anything about it either way. The oath will stop them from telling anyone about it and they won’t be able to do anything.”

 

Harry relaxed a little. That much was true, but it was still possible for some of the students who already knew and wouldn’t be learning it from the books to talk about it with whoever they wanted. And his mind kept going back to how Professor Lupin had had to leave the school because parents had protested. Was parseltongue as bad as lycanthropy in the wizarding world?

 

**Dudley stood … at his father.**

 

“As if that fat muggle will be able to force a snake to move,” Tonks snorted darkly.

 

“He should’ve just left it alone,” Harry said, scrunching up his nose. “The poor animal hadn’t done anything to deserve having them bothering it.”

 

“Merlin, Harry, was it your friend or something?” Seamus asked with a teasing grin.

 

“Uh, an acquaintance, more like it,” Harry admitted, deciding that it didn’t matter what he said since they were going to hear what had happened anyway.

 

“I thought you didn’t like snakes,” the boy tried to tease him again, but he sounded more puzzled than anything else.

 

“Some of them,” Harry said uncomfortably. He didn’t hate snakes, as in the animal, in general since they had never seemed that threatening to him, but he did hate many other snakes. Snape and Malfoy were at the head of that list. He couldn’t stand them.

 

Some people sent him funny looks, but he didn’t care. He disliked most of the Slytherin house and he made no attempt to hide it, but he didn’t hate all of them. Some of them had never made fun of him or his friends nor had they tried to curse him, so they weren’t that bad. Not that he was eager to make friends with them. He was not _that_ crazy.

 

**Uncle Vernon … just snoozed on.**

 

“Doesn’t he care that he seems like a dog following his owner’s orders?” Bill asked, frustrated and angry. He simply couldn’t get over the lack of education the Dursleys were giving their son.

 

“I thought Malfoy was a pampered prince at home, but I’m sure his father wouldn’t tolerate to be talked like that,” Ron mumbled with a grimace. He couldn’t believe he had said something that was almost nice about Draco Malfoy of all people, but it didn’t make it any less true. Lucius Malfoy would ground his son for eternity if he tried to order him around like Dudley was doing with his father.

 

**“This is … shuffled away.**

 

“About time,” Dean huffed. “Now, if he could just stay gone…”

 

“It’s good to dream sometimes, Dean,” Harry grinned amused.

 

His roommate grinned unashamed and shrugged. “I could hope, you know. I don’t know how long I can stand to keep hearing about him before I start to want to pull my own hair out.”

 

Harry snickered. “You’re gonna have to manage. I doubt they’ll go away for a long time since I’m still living with them.”

 

Dean’s grin faltered for an instant before it came back, a little more forced than before. “Damn. And here I was hoping your bad luck hadn’t kicked in until you had come to Hogwarts,” he tried to joke.

 

Harry smiled, appreciating the effort to defuse the tension in the air.

 

**Harry moved in … the house.**

 

“Harry, don’t… Don’t do that,” Sirius said through gritted teeth.

 

Harry blinked perplexed. “Do what? I’m not doing anything.”

 

“Don’t compare yourself to an animal,” the animagus barked, the anger making his voice harsher than he meant to.

 

Harry didn’t know how to react. Part of him wanted to reach out and comfort his godfather, tell him that he was sorry for having thought that. But another part of him rebelled against doing that. He couldn’t control his thoughts and he could control even less what appeared in the books. He had _warned_ them that they wouldn’t be pretty, that his life hadn’t been a walk in the park, and they had been the ones who had insisted on being present to listen. He wasn’t going to try to make it easier for them when they had been the stubborn ones and he wasn’t going to feel bad for them if they heard something they didn’t like.

 

It was kind of funny. He should be the one who should be the most upset at having his home life in the open and he was probably going to panic once he allowed himself to really think about it, but it was everyone else who was having a harder time dealing with it at the moment. It was like everybody had believed that he had the perfect home with the perfect family and no one had bothered to even consider otherwise, except for his two best friends and the twins. This was being a rude awakening for everyone else.

 

Even then, he could only think that, since they had wanted to know, they had to deal with the consequences themselves. They couldn’t demand of him that he didn’t think like that when it had been ingrained in him for as long as he could remember. They had no right to demand those things of him like that would fix everything that was wrong with him. Hearing that made him want to snap at Sirius and give him a piece of his mind, but he didn’t want to open that can of worms yet, not in front of anyone. He could do that later, when his godfather inevitably tried to talk to him.

 

**The snake … winked.**

 

Sirius blinked, snapped out of his anger as the impossibility of what he had heard sunk in.

 

“It what?” He asked baffled. Snakes didn’t wink. Was it even physically possible for them to wink?

 

“It winked,” Harry repeated, his voice inexpressive as he refused to show his fear. He hadn’t thought that his godfather may not know about him being a parselmouth. Some part of him had assumed that Professor Lupin had found out the year before and had told Sirius or something. However, one look at the werewolf revealed that he was just as surprised as the animagus.

 

“Snakes can’t wink,” Remus said, voicing Sirius’ thoughts.

 

“Well, they obviously can,” George cut in, his cheerful voice carrying a steely edge.

 

“Since that lovely specimen is flirting with our dear little Harrikins,” Fred said, wiping a fake tear off his eye like he was incredibly proud.

 

Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance and looked around. Only Tonks, the other Ministry officers and many of the younger students seemed surprised. They were obviously missing something important here.

 

**Harry stared. … and winked, too.**

 

“Oh, Feorge, did you hear that?” Fred asked tearfully.

 

“I did, Gred,” George nodded solemnly. “Harrikins is flirting back with the snake.”

 

“Soon we’ll lose him and we’ll never hear from him again.”

 

“He’ll find some pretty snake that’ll wink at him like this one and he’ll be charmed forever.”

 

Harry snorted, unconsciously relaxing at their stupid banter. It was good to see that they could still joke about him being a parselmouth like they had done when he had been in second year.

 

“He thinks we’re joking,” Fred said, looking at Harry mournfully.

 

“He won’t know what hits him when the pretty snake winks at him,” George nodded sadly. “So, we’ll have to protect him.”

 

“We can, can’t we? Knights riding shining dragons or whatever muggles say. That’s what we are,” Fred nodded.

 

“It’s knights in shining armours,” Hermione corrected them with a snicker. She was ignored.

 

“We won’t let the pretty snake take him away,” George declared.

 

“Just shut up and let us finish this,” Harry said, a fraction of his anxiety coming back.

 

He glanced at Sirius and Professor Lupin, who seemed confused about what was going on. They hadn’t figured out that he could speak parsel then. He was sure that their reaction wouldn’t be quiet then.

 

**The snake … all the time.”**

 

Tonks blinked confused and leant closer to Charlie. “That wasn’t just a look, Charlie. That snake just talked. We heard it with the spell in the book,” she whispered, narrowing her eyes at his unsurprised expression. “What do you know?”

 

The young man sighed tiredly. “You know why the snake just talked and we were able to hear it through the book. You don’t have to ask me.”

 

The metamorphmagus looked at Harry, who seemed incredibly uncomfortable, and back at her friend. “He’s a parselmouth,” she stated more than asked.

 

Charlie still nodded. “He is. He’s a good kid, though, Tonks,” he tried to assure her. Since he had heard, back when Ginny had come back from her first year in Hogwarts paler and thinner than usual, that Harry Potter had saved his little sister, he hadn’t even thought wrong of the boy. And now that he had met him this last summer, he knew that he genuinely liked him.

 

Tonks glared at him and punched him in the shoulder as hard as she could. “Of course, he is, idiot. I’ve known that since last night. I didn’t need you to tell me that, Charles Weasley. I’m not gonna judge him for talking to snakes.”

 

Charlie smiled in relief. “Good. From what my younger siblings told me, he had a hard few months when the rest of the school found out. Harry didn’t even know he was a parselmouth, or even what parseltongue was, until nobody dared to get close to him.”

 

Tonks’ eyes narrowed and she glared at all the students around her. “They did, huh?” She said, her voice as silky as a pureblood’s best robes. She had little patience with those people who shunned those who had different abilities than them since she had suffered enough of that when she had been in school.

 

“They got over it after a few months, but they gave him a hard time until then,” Charlie said, almost pitying those fools who had picked on Harry when he saw the look on Tonks’ face. With her bubbly and friendly personality, it was usually easy to forget that her mother was a Black.

 

“I think Harry’s more worried about how Black and Lupin will react than anything else,” Bill intervened. He had seen the fleeting glance his little brother’s best friend had sent the two men.

 

The metamorphmagus’ head snapped towards them and she studied them with narrowed eyes. “They didn’t know?”

 

“Doesn’t look like it,” Bill shrugged, watching their confused expressions. Lupin seemed to be catching on faster than Black, but they were both being slow, like they were in denial.

 

Tonks pursed her lips. “I don’t really know my cousin or his friend, but they better keep it together.”

 

**“I know,” … snake nodded vigorously.**

 

“Y-You… You’re a parselmouth,” Sirius said stunned beyond belief.

 

“I am,” Harry said uncomfortable. How was he going to react?

 

“How can you speak parsel? Lily was a muggle-born and James was… I mean, no one in his family ever spoke parsel,” Remus said dumbfounded.

 

“It’s… complicated,” Harry answered evasively.

 

“Is that going to be a problem?” Ron snapped harshly, glaring at them to get their act together. There was nothing wrong with being shocked, but they should hurry and get to the part where they reassured Harry that they didn’t care, that there was nothing wrong with being a parselmouth. And they better get to that part, or he was going to practice every single one of the few hexes they had learnt in DADA on them.

 

“What? No!” Remus exclaimed offended. “You think I’d have a problem with that, knowing what I am?”

 

“Just checking,” Ron replied unrepentant. He turned his gaze towards Sirius. “Is there a problem?” He asked again.

 

The animagus blinked. “No,” he answered dumbfounded.

 

“Really? So, you don’t care that Harry has an ability that’s considered dark?” Hermione chipped in, sounding much too casual for her question.

 

“Hermione!” Harry hissed, staring at her with wide eyes. What was his best friend playing at? In fact, what were _both_ his best friends playing at?

 

“Shush, Harry,” she said dismissively, not taking her eyes off the animagus. “Well? Do you care or not?”

 

Sirius’ gaze hardened and he glared at the girl. “I don’t! How can you…?”

 

“Good,” Hermione interrupted him with a nod. “Let’s not allow that to change.”

 

Sirius gaped at her confused. “I’d never…” How could they consider that he would care? He was friends with a werewolf and his family was as dark as anyone could get without becoming Voldemort, and some members still came awfully close.

 

Harry, meanwhile, was staring at Hermione with exasperation and fondness. “You’re impossible.”

 

“And you had to see that they wouldn’t care to believe it,” she replied simply, shooting him a smile.

 

**“Where … Harry asked.**

 

“Of all the things to ask a snake, and you ask it where it’s from?” Lee Jordan asked, rolling his eyes.

 

“What would _you_ have asked then?” Harry asked defensively.

 

Lee blushed. “Me? I’m not the one who can talk with snakes, Harry,” he spluttered.

 

“Right,” Harry rolled his eyes.

 

**The snake … it nice there?”**

 

“You always were a weirdo, Potter,” Malfoy sneered, but it lacked his usual bite. Even he was having trouble getting over the truth of Potter’s home life.

 

“Bugger off, Malfoy!” Ron snapped harshly. “Not a word against Harry!”

 

“I don’t see why not,” the blond replied. “Nobody knows what happened in second year. For all we know, he could’ve been the culprit of everything and he could’ve simply pretended to fix it to avoid having to go back to those muggles.”

 

Harry unconsciously shrunk a little bit. That was way too close to what Tom Riddle had done to get away with it more than fifty years beforehand. Could more people think that he would do that? Was he that similar to that monster?

 

“How dare you?!” Fred saw red. “Who do you think you are to say something like that?!”

 

“In case you haven’t noticed, his best friend is a muggle-born, you prick!” George shouted, gripping his wand tightly. He wanted to hex him so badly.

 

“And look how she ended up,” Malfoy pressed on smugly. He loved being able to rile these people up like this. “Not that I’m surprised. A mudblood like her…”

 

He couldn’t finish the sentence. A red beam of light hit him in the face with so much strength that the armchair he was sitting on toppled over and the blond ended up tangled in his own robes on the floor. Everyone turned in the direction the beam had come from and saw a very, very angry Harry Potter standing up with his wand raised.

 

“Don’t you _dare_ , Malfoy,” he hissed, sending shivers down everyone’s spines. “I can put up with you saying whatever about me or about how I speak parsel. I don’t care.”

 

Malfoy was staring at him from the floor, not daring to stand up again, and the rest were gaping at the black-haired boy. Some had been about to get their wands out to hex the blond themselves for the insult, but Harry had been faster than them. Now they were watching stunned as he trembled in rage after hearing the insult towards his friend when he had been stoically enduring the onslaught of rude comments towards himself an instant before.

 

“But don’t you dare call Hermione that again,” Harry kept talking. He held so much anger inside that sparks flew out of his wand. “I hear you calling her that again and you’re gonna get much more than a Disarming Spell to the face. And you suggest one more time that I’d ever hurt her, or anyone, like that, and we’re gonna get that duel you chickened out of three years ago, you understand?”

 

Once he was sure that his message had got across, he sat back down again and sighed. He looked up when he felt Hermione grab his right hand and squeeze it tightly.

 

“Thank you, Harry,” she muttered, a touch smile on her face at the blatant show of affection on his part. She knew that Harry was always much quicker to rise to the defence of someone he cared about than when he was the one being picked on.

 

Harry smiled in return. “I would’ve tried the spell Ron used last time, but I didn’t wanna risk ending up burping slugs like he did.”

 

Ron’s ears went red. “Yeah. Not a good experience. Besides, watching Malfoy fall like that was almost as good as seeing him as a bouncing ferret.”

 

They shared amused glances. That was a good memory, even now that they knew that it had been a Death Eater who had hexed Malfoy.

 

**The boa … been to Brazil?”**

 

“It’s kind of surreal to hear him talk with a snake like that, isn’t it?” Bill grinned amused.

 

“You mean how he’s talking with an animal about where it’s from?” Charlie asked sarcastically. “You don’t think that’s normal?”

 

“I’d like to be able to do that,” Tonks pouted.

 

“I think what you can do is much better,” Harry snorted. “It’s certainly more useful.”

 

“Not always,” Luna intervened, smiling softly. “Harry, if you have some time when we can get out of here, my father’s writing an article about snakes and he could use some help.”

 

Harry almost choked on his own spit. “You want my help with an article about snakes?” He asked disbelievingly.

 

“Well, it’d be terribly convenient to have someone who could understand them when they answer our questions,” the blond girl nodded.

 

“You’re interrogating snakes?” Ron asked perplexed. Was he dreaming? Was this going to be a nightmare or just some weird-arse dream?

 

Luna nodded with a soft smile on her face. “Of course. How else would we prove that many snakes were people in another life?”

 

“People in another life?” The redhead repeated, his eyebrows rising to his hairline. The option of the weird-arse dream was winning more points. He didn’t know whether to laugh or not. This girl was mental.

 

“That’s not…” Hermione began with a frown.

 

“I don’t mind helping,” Harry cut her off. He had no wish to hear them arguing with each other and he knew, from what little he had talked with Luna, that the younger girl could be just as set in her ideas as Hermione. He feared that an argument between them could be as long as one between Ron and Hermione.

 

“Thank you, Harry,” Luna smiled brightly.

 

“Who is she?” Fred asked, looking at the girl half like she was crazy and half like Christmas had come early.

 

“No clue,” George shrugged. He too was staring at the girl pensively. Her ideas may be crazy, but it was always the craziest ones that were the greatest. “Harry seems to know her, though. We can ask him later.”

 

**As the … WHAT IT’S DOING!”**

 

“Oh, shut up!” Fred groaned.

 

“We wanted to hear more about the boa constrictor!” George agreed.

 

“It was awfully friendly,” Luna said, surprising many people. She seemed disappointed that she couldn’t get more information about snakes.

 

“Don’t worry, Luna,” Harry tried to cheer her up. “You can ask another snake later and I’ll translate.” He couldn’t believe he had just offered that, but the girl had helped him earlier and he liked her.

 

Luna smiled brightly. “Thank you, Harry,” she repeated her words from earlier.

 

“And we’ll, of course, be there to ask some questions ourselves,” George said, almost rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

 

“George, Harry’s not a walking translator for you to use when you want,” his mother chided him.

 

“But, mum, Harry would never deny us this opportunity, would you, Harry?” Fred asked, staring at the black-haired boy hopefully.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I s’ppose it doesn’t matter a few more questions,” he gave in. He sent the twins a pointed look. “You two owe me one.”

 

“Of course, Harrikins,” George nodded, a mischievous smirk on his face.

 

“Your wish is our command,” Fred nodded eagerly. They were going to have so much fun with this.

 

“Mine too,” Luna said.

 

“What?” Harry said, his eyes widening. “No, Luna, don’t… It’s okay. It’s because they aren’t gonna use what they learn for an article like your father. I don’t mind helping you.”

 

“Oh,” the girl blinked. “Well, if you’re sure, Harry.”

 

**Dudley … on the concrete floor.**

 

Harry had the air knocked out of him by surprise, leaving him a bit wide-eyed. His hand automatically flew to his ribs where he had felt his cousin’s hit. This connection with the books sure was weird.

 

“Harry?” Hermione asked, having felt the boy’s flinch. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Harry nodded, the shock gone. “I just forgot about the connection or the link or whatever.”

 

“You felt that?” Ron asked, glaring at the book. He was going to kill whoever had made those books and had linked them to his best friend.

 

“It was nothing,” Harry rolled his eyes at the overprotective gazes he could feel directed his way. “I’ve been hit harder during a quidditch match and you all know it.”

 

“That doesn’t help much, you know? Not when we know you’re probably gonna relive those matches,” Dean said, trying to hide his concern.

 

Harry looked at him sheepishly and racked a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

 

**What came … howls of horror.**

 

“What?” Katie asked, distracted from the different ways she could hurt the Dursleys and get away with it. If she got the team’s help, she would certainly have a better chance of making them regret it more.

 

“Howls of horror?” Mrs. Weasley asked nervously.

 

“What happened?” Mr. Weasley asked.

 

“Nothing bad,” Harry assured them with a grin of anticipation. This had been good.

 

Seeing him like that went a long way making everyone relax. If he was happy and amused, it couldn’t have been that bad. The muggles must have been exaggerating.

 

**Harry sat … tank had vanished.**

 

The gasps of surprise were soon swallowed by the noise of the roars of laughter. It was about time those bullies got the scare they deserved.

 

“ **The vanishing glass** ,” Percy gasped in understanding.

 

“Uh?” Harry frowned in confusion.

 

“It was the title of the chapter. **The vanishing glass** ,” Hermione explained.

 

“Oh. Well, it was a fitting title,” the boy grinned amused.

 

“It is,” Percy nodded in agreement. “It makes so much sense now that we’ve heard the whole story.”

 

Harry sent him an odd look, but he decided not to ask _why_ it wouldn’t. Asking Percy a question usually led to a long lecture about something he wasn’t interested in.

 

“Not bad,” Angelina smiled proudly. She felt like an older sister whose little brother had done something great. “Vanishing Spells aren’t easy even when they’re used on inanimate objects.”

 

“What were you thinking, Harry, freeing a snake in the zoo?” Hermione asked, half exasperated and half amused.

 

“The poor animal had been in a cage its whole life. It deserved to get out for a while and Dudley annoyed me enough for my magic to do it,” Harry grinned unrepentant. “I didn’t want my cousin to hit the crystal again and I wanted her to be free and go to Brazil.”

 

“And if someone had got hurt?” The girl asked, trying to remain stern and failing miserably.

 

“Nobody did,” Harry shrugged.

 

“C’mon, Hermione,” Ron whined. “Can’t you just enjoy it? Harry’s cousin and that friend of his deserved it. Besides, it’s called _accidental_ magic for a reason. Harry couldn’t control it.”

 

The girl gave in with a sigh. She couldn’t argue with that logic.

 

**The great snake … Thanksss, amigo.”**

 

“Merlin’s pants, it’s so weird to understand a snake,” Seamus said with a giddy grin.

 

“Even when we can understand it, it still sounds like it hisses,” Alicia said in awe. She had never imagined that it could be like that.

 

Ron was grinning from ear to ear. He shoved his best friend lightly. “Told you you weren’t doing it justice. This is so much better than you told us.”

 

“Is it?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, but his lips quirked upwards.

 

“It’s certainly much more entertaining,” Hermione agreed with the redhead. “And you never told us that you vanished the glass keeping it trapped.”

 

“I didn’t think it was that important,” Harry shrugged.

 

**The keeper … the glass go?”**

 

“It disappeared,” Fred said in a hushed voice.

 

“It was like magic,” George nodded seriously, making people snort in amusement.

 

“Technically, I think we could say that the glass went into nonbeing. Or everything, if you prefer,” Luna answered with a pensive expression on her face.

 

“What?” The twins asked confused.

 

“Well answered, Ms. Lovegood,” Flitwick congratulated his student proudly.

 

“What are they talking about?” Ron asked bewildered. In fact, almost everyone seemed just as confused.

 

“It’s a theory about where Vanished objects go,” Hermione explained, mulling it in her head.

 

“Nowhere,” the redhead said confused. “They disappear. You vanish them and they disappear. That’s how the spell goes if it’s done right, doesn’t it?”

 

The girl sighed in exasperation. “But everything has to go somewhere, Ron. Many wizards and witches have theorized about where.”

 

“Why does it matter?” Ron replied. “What matters is that they aren’t where you don’t want them anymore.”

 

“It matters,” she replied firmly, glaring at him before he dared to argue. “it’s a fascinating topic to investigate.”

 

Harry sighed and intervened before this could develop into a full-blown argument in the middle of the Great Hall. “And how do you know all this, Hermione?” He asked, hoping it would distract them.

 

The girl’s cheeks turned pink. “Professor McGonagall mentioned the other day in class that we would be learning the Vanishing Spell next year and that it’s one of the most difficult ones we will have to learn. So, I decided to read a little in advance to be prepared.”

 

Harry was staring at her in amused exasperation, not surprised at all, while Ron had horror painted all over his face. Everyone else was just gaping at the girl.

 

“You’re already studying for the spells we’re gonna learn next year? What? All the work we have to do this year is not enough for you?” Ron asked horrified. “No, wait. You know what? I’m not even surprised. You’re probably already reading ahead for the N.E.W.T.s or something.”

 

Hermione blushed (nobody had to know that the redhead was right) and glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared, Ron,” she argued heatedly. “Maybe if you did the same, you wouldn’t be behind with your homework all the time.”

 

Ron’s ears turned red. “I’m not behind all the time!” He replied, even as he knew that it was mostly a lie. The only time he wasn’t behind was the first week of school and this year had already broken that rule.

 

“Why don’t we keep reading?” Harry intervened. He hadn’t meant for another argument to start when he had asked Hermione that question. He should have known that Ron would manage to put his foot in his mouth and annoy Hermione somehow.

 

**The zoo … weren’t you, Harry?”**

 

There was an explosion of swears and curses aloud.

 

“That little snot brat! He just had to open his mouth and say that, didn’t he?” Ron ranted. “Nobody asked him! And he’s got Harry in trouble!”

 

“Like it was the first or the last time I’ve got into trouble, Ron,” Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“He could certainly use a couple of lessons on when to keep his trap shut, couldn’t he, Gred?” George asked, his eyes dark with anger.

 

“And a few about when not to stick his nose in other people’s business, Feorge,” Fred agreed.

 

“Maybe we could take it away until he learns,” George mused.

 

“That would make him learn quickly, wouldn’t it?” Fred nodded.

 

“You’re not taking that boy’s nose,” their mother cut in firmly. As angry as she was with that boy, he didn’t really know how much trouble he had got Harry into.

 

“Maybe an arm or a leg then?” Fred didn’t let up.

 

“We could conjure a snake and allow Harry to set it on him. That would give him a chance to get his revenge,” George suggested, only half joking.

 

“I’m not gonna set a snake on anyone,” Harry rolled his eyes. He refused to use that ability to scare anybody. It scared people enough on its own without using it like that.

 

“Pity,” Fred shrugged, not wanting to push him.

 

“But better for us. Now we can get revenge on his behalf,” George said with a mischievous smirk.

 

**Uncle Vernon … a large brandy.**

 

“No meals?! What did he mean no meals?!” Molly roared incensed. “He can’t leave a growing boy without food!”

 

It was no wonder that Harry always seemed to eat much less than any of her children, even Ginny, if he had had meals withheld from him. She was going to have to watch him closer to make sure that he ate enough. He was too skinny as it was.

 

“Mr. Potter, I think you’re gonna have to come with me to the infirmary when we finish reading for the day,” Madam Pomfrey intervened. Her eyes were smouldering with rage and she had to curl her hands into fists to stop their shaking.

 

“What? Madam Pomfrey, this happened years ago!” Harry protested horrified. “I’m fine!”

 

“It was bad enough that you were kept in a small space like a cupboard for years, Mr. Potter. That could have grave consequences. But withholding meals…” She trailed off, her lips pulled back in a snarl that few people had ever seen on her face. She gritted her teeth and made an effort not to snap at the boy. “It’s my duty as the nurse in this school to make sure that the students are healthy. I have to make sure that there was no lasting damage or anything that we can’t reverse.”

 

“But, Madam Pomfrey, you don’t have to check anything. I’m fine,” he repeated.

 

“No excuses,” she replied in a no-nonsense voice. “You’re coming with me tonight before you go up to your common room. I have to see if it’s necessary for you to spend the night in the infirmary. And don’t even think about trying to sneak away, Mr. Potter. Don’t make me go look for him to the tower.”

 

“But…” He said horrified. Spend the night in the infirmary for something that had happened more than three years prior? No way.

 

“No buts,” she interrupted firmly, fixing him with a steely look until the boy gave in.

 

“I can’t believe this…” Harry grumbled under his breath, staring at the hands in his lap.

 

“It’s for the best, Harry,” Remus said, trying to smile at him. It was difficult, though, when he couldn’t help but keep thinking about how Harry hadn’t been allowed to eat. “We just want to make sure that you’re alright.”

 

“I _am_ alright,” the boy huffed.

 

“Do it for our peace of mind then,” the werewolf pleaded.

 

“It’s certainly not gonna be for mine,” Harry scowled quietly. He knew he was being rude, but, quite frankly, he didn’t care. Nobody had cared for years and now he was supposed to be a good little boy and do as they said _for their peace of mind_. Even Sirius had said earlier that neither of his parents had been as small as him so they all knew that the Dursleys care had left its mark.

 

“Harry…” Sirius frowned when he saw Remus’ face fall. He knew that the boy was angry and, knowing how he had been treated by his relatives, he didn’t blame him. But he didn’t have to pay his frustration and anger with them.

 

“Think they’ll manage to find a way to make you… not a midget anymore?” Ron interrupted the animagus, completely ignoring him. He knew Harry had every right to be angry with the adults right then. A check-up wasn’t going to fix anything except their curiosity. What Harry needed was for someone to heal any injuries he had, and he didn’t have any more, and several good meals until he could grow an appetite and he put some meat on those bones.

 

Harry glared at him without heat. “I’m not a midget.”

 

“Not a midget?” Fred said when he saw Sirius open his mouth again. He agreed with what his little brother was doing here. They were all being morons dealing with all these revelations and they weren’t going to take it lying down.

 

“A squirt then?” George added before his mum could say something.

 

“Not a squirt either,” Harry protested, but it had no bite. He was more grateful that they were guarding off all the comments and questions than annoyed with their teasing.

 

“He’s says he’s not a squirt, Feorge,” Fred said with fake seriousness.

 

“Then he’s delusional on top of a squirt, Gred,” George said. “A delusional squirt. That’s what he is.”

 

“If you’ve finished this discussion,” Hermione intervened when she saw the adults desist in their attempts to talk with Harry. It had taken them long enough. “We should continue reading if we want to finish any time this year.”

 

“Uh-oh. Our favourite bookworm is getting impatient,” George teased her.

 

“We better run before she throws a book at us,” Fred grinned.

 

“Think they have a death wish?” Ron muttered, leaning closer to Harry so only his best friend heard him. They were both watching warily the glare Hermione was sending the twins. They were so going to get it if they didn’t stand down soon.

 

Fortunately, they did. Maybe they sensed the danger or maybe it was just a coincidence but at least they didn’t end up hexed.

 

**Harry lay in … some food.**

“How would you? They locked you in, didn’t they?” Tonks asked bitterly.

 

“I told you before. The door opened even when they did that,” Harry sighed tiredly. “It didn’t always happen at first, but then I could simply touch it and it would swing open.”

 

They gaped at him. They couldn’t believe this boy, talking so calmly about doing wandless magic before he had even known that magic existed.

 

“B-But what did your relatives said when they found the door open?” Neville dared to ask wide-eyed.

 

“It always closed again when I went back inside,” Harry shrugged. “It worked the same way. I touched it and it would be locked again.”

 

“Wicked,” Dean grinned widely. He wished he could do the same, but he doubted it.

 

“Did he… Did he just say that he could perform wandless and silent spells before he came to Hogwarts?” Flitwick stuttered wide-eyed. Never mind that they were simple first-year spells. It was an amazing feat.

 

“I-I think he just did,” McGonagall said with a hand on her chest in shock.

 

Snape was just as surprised, but he refused to show it. He was trying not to think about how Lily had manipulated her magic to a certain degree, too, making a flower open and close and flying off the swing. He didn’t want to think that this was something else the boy had in common with his mother. He wanted to keep believing that the brat was just like his father. He needed to keep believing that.

 

“Do you think he could have controlled his magic in other ways?” Flitwick asked, the shock turning into awe and giddiness. Oh, how he would enjoy helping Harry learn how to do spells wandlessly and silently like that. The boy would be a force to be reckoned with if he could accomplish that and, from what the letter had said, he would need every advantage he could get.

 

“I have no idea,” McGonagall said breathlessly. “But he should certainly try to do it more if he can.”

 

“It would help him enormously,” Sprout nodded, her thoughts going in the same direction Flitwick’s had gone earlier.

 

**He’d lived … that car crash.**

 

Any remaining awe at Harry’s wandless casting vanished at the remainder of the lie the child had believed for so long, for most of his life in fact. It was unconceivable, but it was the harsh truth. That fact alone was enough to want to throttle the Dursleys and make them suffer.

 

There were many things you shouldn’t lie to children about and the truth about their parents was the ahead of the list, especially when they had been murdered and everyone knew about it. It made their blood boil to think about how ignorant Harry had been about his own story because of the Dursleys.

 

**He couldn’t … on his forehead.**

 

There was a collective sharp intake of breath as the words sank in.

 

He remembered his parents’ death?

 

No, that couldn’t be possible… But, looking at his pained expression, no one could think that it wasn’t true. It didn’t matter that he should have been too young to remember something like that.

 

“You remember that?” Sirius asked. He felt like he was going to be sick.

 

Harry made an uncommitted sound. He didn’t want to confess that he remembered much more now, that he remembered their last words now and he now knew exactly what the curse that had killed them looked like. It was something that only Ron and Hermione knew in detail and Professor Lupin to some degree, unless he had told Sirius.

 

“How’s that possible?” McGonagall asked breathless. She felt like she had had the air knocked out of her.

 

“The mind is a curious thing, Minerva,” Albus answered quietly. “Memories can only be erased with magic, not with time. Time can bury them deep down, but there’s always the possibility that they’ll come forth for some reason.”

 

“Poor boy,” Sprout said, her voice muffled by the hand over her mouth. He didn’t deserve this.

 

**This, … them in the house.**

 

“You didn’t know how they looked like?” Angelina muttered horrified. She was having a hard time not staring at him with pity.

 

Harry gritted his teeth, hating every pitying look directed his way. “I didn’t even know their names until I received my letter from Hogwarts,” he said, more harshly than he had meant to. He felt a pang of regret when he saw her flinch and he softened. “I’m sorry, Angelina.”

 

“Don’t worry,” she shook her head. “I get it.” She didn’t, not really, but Harry didn’t want her to anyway and neither did she.

 

“I know how they look like now,” Harry said softly, smiling when she relaxed a little. “I found out during the Christmas holidays of my first year and I have photos of them now. Hagrid gave them to me at the end of my first year.”

 

The older girl sighed in relief. “Good,” was all she could say. If she said anything else, she was going to go try to curse the Dursleys. She was probably going to help the Weasley twins with whatever plan they came up with in any way she could.

 

The conversation had helped calm everyone down a little, but the tension was still high in the Great Hall. They didn’t know why they kept getting surprised by everything the Dursleys did, but they somehow did. How could anyone deny a child the right to know their parents’ names or how they looked like?

 

**When he … his only family.**

 

“I think we should be offended, Feorge,” Fred said with forced levity.

 

“I think so, too, Gred. After so long and this thick-headed dunderhead still doesn’t get it,” George shook his head sadly.

 

Harry looked at them half amused and half confused. Why should they be offended? What wasn’t he getting?

 

Ron rolled his eyes and slapped the back of his head. “You’re family, idiot,” he huffed. And people said he was the one who had the emotional capability of a brick. Maybe he should ask his parents if they could add a hand to the clock for Harry so his best friend got it.

 

Harry ducked his head. He didn’t know how to react. What was he supposed to say when someone told him that he was family? Likewise? You too? Thank you?

 

“You’re a Weasley now,” Bill grinned at the younger boy. He had no problem having another sibling. What was one more when he had six already? Besides, Harry had saved his little sister and he spent half the summer with them so, as far as he was concerned, he was already an honorary Weasley. Heck, he had heard the twins and Ginny refer to Ron’s room as Ron and Harry’s room.

 

“The first not redheaded Weasley,” Charlie grinned, enjoying the boy’s shy embarrassment immensely.

 

Hermione grabbed his hand, smiling kindly at him when he looked at her blushing. She had already told him before that he was like a brother to her. She didn’t need to repeat again for him to know.

 

Sirius watched all this not knowing what to feel. He was ecstatic that his godson had so many wonderful people that cared about him so much, but a small part of him couldn’t help but think ‘what about Remus and I?’. They had been his family first, even if Harry didn’t remember it, and now… now Harry didn’t seem to need them. A selfish part of him wanted to grab Harry and shout that _they_ were his family, that there was no need for him to be a Weasley because he had them, but the shy and pleased smile on Harry’s face stopped him. The boy hadn’t looked like that when he had asked Harry to come live with him at the end of the previous school year. Did Harry prefer to live with the Weasleys rather than with him? What was he going to do about it? Why did he feel like he was losing his godson even when he was just a few feet away?

 

Remus ignored the pang in his chest at Harry’s expression. One look at Sirius’ face told him that the animagus was thinking along the same lines as him. However, he could understand where Harry was coming from. The boy hadn’t known them for more than a year while the Weasleys were his best friend’s family and he had probably spent many holidays with them. Of course, the group of redheads (and the bushy-haired girl sitting next to him. Let’s not forget about her) were family to Harry. It hurt to think that Harry was probably never going to call them Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot like he would have had things gone differently, but they couldn’t change the past. They could only try to show Harry that they considered him family, too, and that they wanted to be there for him like the Weasleys were.

 

**Yet … seemed to know him.**

 

“Wizards for sure,” Seamus said.

 

“And witches,” Parvati glared at him.

 

“And witches,” he hastily corrected himself. Merlin, girls could be scary when they wanted to be. He had just said wizards in general, as in ‘people with magic’, but that was much longer to say.

 

**Very strange strangers … closer look.**

 

“I can’t believe it,” Katie huffed. “Were they trying to make you question your sanity?”

 

“There’s no sanity to question, Katie,” George said teasingly.

 

“Harry’s gone crazy a long time ago,” Fred smirked at the boy even when he was talking to the girl.

 

“I’m not crazy,” Harry denied vehemently.

 

“Maybe a little, Harry,” Hermione said, grinning a bit.

 

“I’m not!”

 

“You are,” Ron contradicted him.

 

“Are not!”

 

“Are too!”

 

“Boys,” Molly stopped them exasperated.

 

“Sorry, mum,” Ron said automatically

 

“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said at the same time. He waited until she looked away before elbowing his best friend and hissing under his breath, “Are not.”

 

Ron glared at him, rubbing the sore spot in his ribs. He didn’t have a chance of replying because his mother was staring at them suspiciously again while Harry was the vivid picture of innocence. Oh, he didn’t know how people could think that Harry was innocent and a good and polite little boy, but he knew that the black-haired boy could be as devious as the twins when he wanted to be.

 

**At school, … with Dudley’s gang.**

 

“We were your first friends?” Ron asked quietly, his annoyance with his best friend already gone. Now, seeing him nod and stare at his lap, he only felt a lump in his throat. “You were my first friend, too,” he blurted out without thinking. He just wanted Harry to stop looking so… ashamed or whatever.

 

Harry’s head snapped up in surprise. “We were?” He asked, taking care to keep his voice quiet so his conversation stayed as private as possible.

 

“Mine too,” Hermione confessed in a whisper.

 

“Really?” Ron asked surprised.

 

The witch didn’t know how to react to that. Maybe she should be glad that he was surprised since that meant that he couldn’t understand how no one had wanted to be her friend before. But both Harry and Ron should get it if they thought about how she had been before they had saved her from the troll.

 

Harry grinned amused. “So, you’re saying that we’re all a band of misfits?” He asked, finding it funny for some reason.

 

Ron rolled his eyes and shoved him away. “Shut up, Harry.”

 

“If I could have everyone’s attention for a moment, please,” Flitwick’s voice interrupted them. “We’ve finished the first chapter,” he announced, pointing at the floating book, which was glowing with a yellow light.

 

“Should we continue with the next one then?” Dumbledore asked calmly, his eyes twinkling. He ignored all the stares in his direction, knowing that many people wanted to talk to him about his decision of leaving Harry with the Dursleys. They would have to wait until they finished reading for the day, though, and they were somewhere private. “We haven’t been reading for long so I think that we can wait for a while yet before we take a break, don’t you think?”

 

“I don’t have a problem wiz zat,” Madame Maxime nodded her agreement. She was shocked at the treatment the Boy-Who-Lived had received and she was certainly going to have words with Dumbledore, but she knew it was not the time nor the place for that.

 

“The sooner we finish this, the better,” Karkaroff said with a bored voice. He just wanted to get back to the Triwizard Tournament.

 

“Well, then,” Flitwick nodded, flicking his wand in the book’s direction. It glowed green for an instant as the next page turned.


End file.
